Singing in the Rain
by soundslikepeanuts
Summary: Sometimes love creeps up on you and it's not what you expect but it's just what you need. E/É with M/C, J/M/B and one-sided E/R. T for bad language and some violence and suggestiveness.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N HI GUYS**

**so this is my first fanfic... I just had the idea and couldn't get rid of it and thought WHY NOT basically**

**So this is probably going to end up being a long one, because to keep them as in character as possible I think it'll need to be**

**I hope you enjoy it, would love reviews so I know what you think (if anyone reads this)**

**It's a slow start but it'll pick up I promise**

**DISCLAIMER: if I owned Les Misérables, my life would be infinitely better, but sadly I don't. I also don't own the song from Bonnie and Clyde or Singing in the Rain**

* * *

Éponine Thénardier surveyed the scene in front of her with distaste. It had just gone half past eleven at night and she was standing behind the bar of her parents' inn in Paris, wiping out a glass with a rag that looked as though it had been fished out of the Seine after several years in the mud. All around her fights were breaking out, drunkards were falling off the rickety old barstools and a few prostitutes were trying desperately to pick up customers.

So all in all, a typical night for Éponine. She was just glad she was working behind the bar and not in the back room this time.

'Oi, what d'ya call this? You been givin' this shit away?' She turned to see her father holding the contents of the till in his fists with an angry look on his face, directed at her.  
'Course not, just been a slow night that's all. Always is on a Thursday, what d'you want me to do?!' Éponine silently cursed herself. That was the wrong question to ask Thénardier when he was feeling out of pocket.  
'I don't give a shit what you do, I want another 100 euros in this till before we close up or you'll wish you were never born'  
'More than usual?' she snapped back.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her to him. '100 euros' he snarled, before pushing her away so that she smashed into the bar, barely keeping her footing. Éponine looked up defiantly but he had already disappeared into the back. '_That was a stupid thing to do, you dipshit'_she thought to herself then looked at the clock with a sigh. Last orders were in 25 minutes and she knew her father was serious about the money.

''ZELMA!' she yelled into the back. Her younger sister Azelma appeared, her brown eyes wide in her drawn, underfed face. Azelma would be quite pretty if she'd had a different life, but instead her mousy brown hair hung limp around her face and her tiny body was dwarfed by the oversize hoody she wore to keep warm. 'Watch the bar for me? I'm going to try and drum up some more business'

Her younger sister understood immediately. 'How much does he want?'  
'100 euros'  
Azelma slowly blew out a long breath. 'I'll charge a bit extra for each pint'  
Éponine gave a small smile as thanks, then crossed the bar to the small stage in the corner by the jukebox, where an ancient microphone stood. If there was one thing that seemed to get people to drink more in the inn, it was a song or two from Éponine, the more suggestive the better. It was an odd phenomenon, but it worked in her favour. All she had to do was imagine she was in the Café Musain - where she spent most of her days - singing to Marius, the love of her life. The idiots around her thought she was singing to them and bought more drinks.

She dropped a coin in the jukebox and selected 'How 'Bout A Dance' from the Bonnie and Clyde musical. A few drunken cheers went up as the intro filled the room and she took to the stage.

Éponine closed her eyes and dreamed as she started to sing.

'_How 'bout a dance?__  
__What do ya say?_  
_I got some moves that I'd love to show ya_  
_Let's find a spot and dance the night away…'_

The men were drunk enough that Éponine's sultry voice and her slender hips slowly swaying to the tune in her old, tatty skinny jeans was enough to get them lusting.

'_How 'bout a dance?__  
__It's always fun_  
_Come over here, let me get to know ya_  
_Can't beat a band to get your spirits high… you look so handsome!_

She could see it now, Marius smiling at her from the bar, eyes full of love, ready to take her away from the inn forever.

_How 'bout a dance?__  
__Let's make a start_  
_Music like this can really throw ya_  
_You'll lose the blues_  
_And you may lose your heart_

_Tonight is the night I've been waiting for.__  
__Even the moon looks just right._  
_I'm sure the crowd will make room on the floor._  
_When they see you look like you do._

_So how 'bout a dance? Let's make a start.__  
__Music like this can really throw ya._  
_You'll lose the blues, and you may lose your heart._

_You'll lose the blues, and you may lose your heart._

The song ended and Éponine returned to the bar to cheers and wolf-whistles from the men around her. She smiled with gritted teeth and ignored their leering as they emptied their pockets for beers and watered-down spirits. They made the 100 euros and more, so she split the extra with Azelma and shut the bar. She might treat Gavroche to a pastry tomorrow when she took him to school.

* * *

**Next chapter will actually feature Enjolras, I promise**

**I know it's quite long but I wanted to set the scene**

**Let me know what you think! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Hello again everybody :)**

**I have been so amazed by the response this has got, thank you to all of my reviewers and everyone who favourited, you are the BEST!**

**Thanks especially to weeeell for the one-handed clapping. I also loved the use of the word 'marvellous'! :)  
**

**Disclaimer: I'm still not a nineteenth-century frenchman called Victor. Or Gene Kelly. Sorry.**

* * *

The thin, cheap curtains that barely covered the window in Éponine and Azelma's room were never enough to block out the morning sun, so Éponine woke early the next morning, as usual. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced at her old Nokia phone to check the time: twenty past five. Moving to sit on the edge of her bed, she looked over at her sister as she yawned and stretched her arms above her head: Azelma was still sound asleep, with a peaceful look on her face. Deciding there wasn't much point in waking her up, Éponine crept over to the window to check the weather, then grabbed an old t-shirt, underwear and yesterday's jeans, before she silently went to the bathroom to change.

She dressed quietly and forced her knotted hair into a messy bun, then stopped to look at herself in the grimy full-length mirror which leant against the wall. Her old ACDC t-shirt was a size too small and clung to her skinny frame, her freckled face was a little grubby and she could do with a bit of make-up to hide the dark patches under her eyes, but she decided it was the best she could do without waking anybody up. Maybe Marius would finally notice her tiny waist in that t-shirt. She snuck downstairs, grabbing her scruffy trainers as she passed through the front door and into the deserted street.

It was a warm and sunny Parisian morning, so 'Ponine enjoyed soaking up the sun as she made her way to the giant elephant statue her brother called home. It had once been some big, grand statue, apparently, but these days it had been left to fall apart on some abandoned industrial land by the river, so Gavroche and a handful of other young boys had moved in.

It was only a fifteen minute walk from the inn, so she soon arrived. As she walked up to the statue, one of the urchins popped his little head out the top. Spotting her, he shouted 'HEY GAV, ÉPONINE'S HERE!' She smiled as Gavroche climbed nimbly down the side and ran over for a hug, a big smile on his face.

'Alright, Ép? What can I do for ya this mornin'?'  
'I was just wondering if you fancied a pastry before school? We had a good night at the inn last night' the small boy's eyes lit up at the word 'pastry' and he grinned widely. 'I'll take that as a yes, come on then!' Éponine laughed. Gav turned and waved to the other boy as they left, with only an 'I'll see ya at school Jacques!' as an explanation.

They chatted happily to each other all the way to the bakery and sat against the wall outside as they ate. The streets had started to fill with people as the morning went on and suddenly, Gavroche jumped up, shouting 'COURF! COURFEYRAC!' running over to a tall, well-built man with dark curly hair who was leaving a house further down the street. Éponine followed him, reaching the pair just in time to hear Gavroche say 'My big sister bought me a pastry, look! It's got custard in the middle and-'. The man looked up at her as she approached 'Ah, you must be Gav's sister! But don't I know you? Aren't you Marius's sha…friend from the Musain?'

She decided to ignore the hasty correction. She knew they called her Marius's shadow, none of them were especially quiet when they spoke to each other. 'Yeah, I am. Éponine. Hi' she smiled.  
'Courfeyrac' he held out his hand with a smile. She took it and they shook as he said 'I didn't know you two were related?'  
'We try and keep it quiet usually, my parents aren't nice people.' she explained.

'Yeah but Courf's my buddy, we can tell him' Gavroche piped up. 'Where are Grantaire and Joly and everyone Courf? And why were ya in that house? You don't live there! Is that where Feuilly lives? I've never been to Feuilly's place. Can we go and see 'im?!' He moved to knock on the door.

'NO!' Éponine smirked at the panic in Courfeyrac's eyes and voice. She knew the walk of shame when she saw it. He cleared his throat and continued 'That's not Feuilly's, it's a…friend of mine's place. I'm meeting the lads at the café later, why don't you come over after school?'

Gavroche beamed at the invitation and nodded that he would, then pointed at a man walking by. 'Look, Courf, there's Enjolras now, let's say hello, HEY ENJOLRAS!'

Éponine turned to see another man look over at them. He was as tall as Courfeyrac, with a mop of golden curls framing his handsome face. He was carrying several large books, and the rolled-up sleeves of his red plaid shirt showed he was leanly muscular. She couldn't help but stare for a second, before she thought of Marius and looked at the ground. No, she didn't think he was gorgeous. She wasn't imagining what delights that shirt could be hiding. No. Marius was gorgeous. Not this guy. Don't be silly 'Ponine.

He walked over and gave a stiff 'Hello'. He looked around at the little gathering, his eyes settling on Éponine with a questioning gaze. She looked up at him, smiling, and waited for him to say something. When he hadn't after half a minute she began to feel uncomfortable and glanced at Courfeyrac who was smirking. 'Er…. Hi. I'm Éponine.' she said, holding out her hand. Her voice seemed to bring him out of his trance and glanced at her hand before giving a crisp reply of 'Enjolras. Courfeyrac, will you be at the café later?' The sudden cool dismissal surprised Éponine, who dropped her hand, slightly offended, but an oblivious Gavroche declared loudly that they all would because he was coming after school, which suddenly reminded Éponine of the time.

'Come on Gav, we'd better get you to school, don't want you to be late! Nice to meet you Courfeyrac ... and you, Monsieur Enjolras. Say goodbye, Gav.'  
'Bye!'  
She gave a small smile and turned to walk away with her little brother. Kind of a dick move for that Enjolras to not shake her hand. What an odd man.

* * *

'Bye! See you both at the café later?' Courfeyrac shouted at their backs as they walked away. Gavroche turned and waved enthusiastically, walking backwards into a lost tourist as he did. The beautiful girl walking beside him laughed and apologised to the confused man, then grinned at the two men and disappeared into the crowd with a small wave.

Smirking, Courfeyrac turned to Enjolras. 'So that was Éponine. You over the shock of having to talk to an actual female yet?' he teased.  
Enjolras scowled and replied tersely 'I talk to lots of women. Musichetta is a woman'  
'Ordering coffee doesn't count, Enjolras.' Courf laughed, but let the subject drop as they walked away. He couldn't wait to tell Grantaire about Enjolras's staring; R would have a field day.

* * *

**So that's chapter twoooo**

**I switched to Courfeyrac's perspective for the last part, I hope it wasn't too confusing.**

**I know there wasn't a lot of Enjolras but there will be more coming up I promise, just bear with me!**

**Thanks again for all the feedback, I honestly didn't expect it, so thank you! I really appreciate it, please keep it coming!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ****Bonjour à nouveau, mes plus anciens et les amis les plus chers!  
****Just kidding, you aren't my oldest friends. I also don't speak French. BUT ****I do love you all for the lovely reviews I've been getting, and all the follows and favourites. It's way more than I was expecting and you've all been so kind!  
****HermsP - SOON. I PROMISE.****  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't need a disclaimer. I do own Les Miserables. I wrote it as a creative outlet while I invented microwave popcorn and white chocolate s'mores. Just kidding, I don't own any of those things.**

* * *

Once Gavroche was at school, Éponine wandered aimlessly around Paris for a while. She didn't want to go back home and see her parents. Azelma was at school. The cinnamon pastry she had eaten this morning had filled her up enough that she didn't feel like stealing food. She didn't have any friends to meet up with – most of her old school friends had stopped talking to her when they found out about her home life. What she really wanted to do was go and see Marius, but he would still be in classes at his university. So she wandered.

Wandering in the poorer parts of Paris was boring and riskier – she knew her way around, of course, but there was always the worry of bumping into her mother or father, or one of the Patron-Minette, her father's gang. The richer areas were full of tourists, but safer, and Éponine moved easily through the crowds, enjoying the time alone to think while she wasn't on a job. After a few hours she found herself in front of Notre Dame Cathedral, which despite having lived in Paris most of her life, she had never been inside. Her parents were not very religious people, but she thought she might have been baptised as a baby. Was that a rule for being allowed in? She didn't know.

_'What the hell… can't hurt to have a look' _she thought to herself. Following the crowds of people into the cathedral, her breath was taken away. Nothing could have prepared her for the sheer beauty and majesty of the inside: the towering pillars, the shining colours of the stained glass windows, the shining pipes of the organ. A service was being said at the altar, so she quietly took a seat in the very back, away from the congregation, pulled her hair out of the bun and looked around her. Everyone else at the back was either a camera-wielding tourist or praying and she got some funny looks for just sitting there playing with her hair, but Éponine didn't care. As the priest and congregation began to sing, she felt safer than she had ever felt in her life. Nothing bad could ever happen in such a beautiful building, she was sure of it. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Éponine didn't think about her parents, or the Patron-Minette, or Azelma and Gavroche, her new friend Courfeyrac, that rude guy Enjolras or even her beloved Marius. She just sat in silence, her mind completely clear.

Once the mass was finished, she checked the time on her phone: 12.45. Marius would be finished at university soon! She dashed out of the cathedral, her hair flying behind her as she headed straight for the Café Musain. When she was most of the way there she stopped to lean against a wall and catch her breath, just next to a tourist reading a map. Sensing an opportunity, Éponine expertly took the man's wallet from his pocket, hid it behind her back and removed the notes from it, before dropping it on the floor. She quickly bent down to pick it up and said casually 'Oh, sir, excuse me but you dropped this?'

He was clearly surprised at the sight of his wallet in her hand, and only said 'Goodness, I hadn't noticed! Thank you, my dear!' She smiled and walked away, her stomach heavy with the familiar guilt that always followed picking someone's pocket. She internally scolded herself for being so soft._ 'If you want to buy coffee at the café you need money, and you can hardly go home to Pa empty-handed. Better guilt than bruises from a beating. Marius'll never love you if you're black and blue, will he?' _Her side was still tender from last night in the bar, but at least that bruise wasn't visible. Who knows what could be next – black eyes and missing teeth would be difficult enough to disguise, let alone broken bones!

After a short walk, she was in outside the Café Musain. Before entering, she pulled the money from her back pocket and counted it: 150 euros! Éponine was astonished – she'd never been this lucky before… what kind of idiot carries that much cash around in an open pocket?! She laughed for sheer joy, her guilt forgotten - he was practically asking for it! – before sending a quick text to Azelma to tell her not to bother with any jobs on the way home, she had them both covered.

_'It's my lucky day'_ she mused to herself, grinning. '_The sun is shining, I've got money in my pocket… maybe Marius will finally notice me. He has to, surely. It's my lucky day!'_

* * *

**Sorry, it's a bit shorter than the last one**

**The Notre-Dame stuff isn't pointless, I promise**

**I love to hear from you all, so please feel free to review with any feedback or questions you might have! :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I can only dream of owning these characters**

* * *

Resisting the urge to run, she entered the café and went straight upstairs to find Marius. Walking confidently into the room, she heard her name called from the table in the centre of the room where he and his friends always sat.

'Hey, Éponine! Come and join us!' Much to her disappointment, the voice did not belong to her love, but to Courfeyrac, who was waving his arm above his head, a big goofy grin stretching from ear to ear. More embarrassingly, Marius was nowhere to be seen, and instead she found herself faced with an additional seven unfamiliar faces, staring at her with thinly veiled curiosity. Suddenly very self-conscious, Éponine folded her arms and gave a small smile, walking towards them slowly – she could hardly pretend not to have noticed them after Courfeyrac's mad arm-waving display – inwardly cursing herself for not texting Marius beforehand to make sure he was there.

Courfeyrac pulled the chair next to him out from under the table and patted the seat, so she sat down next to him, acutely aware that seven pairs of eyes were still following her every movement. She looked around at the group of young men… yep. Still staring.

'What is it with you lot and staring at me!?' She blurted out, laughing. It was as though someone had shouted 'EVERYBODY ACT NATURAL': the men immediately tried to look like they hadn't even noticed her come in – the two opposite her started to look around the room at nothing in particular, with one of them falling off his chair in the process, another started to ferociously clean his glasses, two immediately started shouting over each other about what a beautiful day it was, one gazed at the table as though he had never seen it before in his life, and the man directly next to her on her left just to her took a long swig of his beer. Courfeyrac started to laugh with her, a great belly laugh more joyful than any she had heard in her life. He then hollered over the fake conversations 'Smooth guys. Really smooth. This is Éponine, she's friends with Marius and me'

'_Marius and me?'_she thought, confused. '_I only met you this morning! What's your game?'_It didn't seem like there was any hidden agenda here, though… maybe they really were friends. The warm, happy feeling this thought gave her in her gut surprised her, and she couldn't contain the smile that came with it.

'Oh my God, those are the cutest dimples I have ever seen!' This outburst came from the man who had fallen off his chair before, who was still picking himself up off the floor.

Courfeyrac just grinned and continued: 'Éponine, these are Les Amis de l'ABC - that's Bossuet, unluckiest man alive (he grinned cheerfully and sat down), next to him is Joly, (he pointed at the man with the glasses, who smiled kindly at her) his best friend and our resident hypochondriac.' He continued in this manner, introducing her to all of his friends: there was Feuilly, who had been investigating the table ('he likes fans. And Poland.'), 'call me Jehan' Prouvaire – 'poet and hopeless romantic' – who had been shouting about weather with Bahorel ('the biggest man-whore north of Toulon' – this description was met with laughter and cries of outrage, from which Éponine could only make out 'EXCEPT YOU, COURF!'), Combferre ('I can't be mean to 'Ferre he's just too nice') and beer-swigging Grantaire ('he takes drunkenness to a level that no man has reached before').

The introductions and banter that was flying around the room left Éponine barely able to breathe for laughing, a situation not helped by the beer that Combeferre had insisted on buying her, or the endless compliments and ''Seriously, did you know you're really hot?''s or Courfeyrac's description of her encounter with Enjolras that morning – Grantaire was barely able to stay upright he was laughing so hard when he heard of his friend's staring fit. The entire group swapped jokes about it – despite Combeferre's valiant attempts to get them to just _be nice!_ – and told her priceless stories of other times Enjolras had been uncomfortable with women: her favourite was the one Grantaire told her, where a very drunk German exchange student had come up to him in a bar and asked for a taste of his delicious frankfurter and he had almost choked to death on his lemonade, backing into a wall so quickly that a lamp had fallen on him. She hardly noticed the time passing, or that Marius wasn't there, she was enjoying the raucous conversation so much. In particular, she hit it off with Grantaire, who, while clearly absolutely mortal, was just hilarious, particularly on the subject of Enjolras. He also seemed to have a fondness for Pot Noodles, as he ordered three while they were sat there.

The arrival of Marius brought her back to her senses.  
''Ponine? Why are you talking to my friends? You don't know them.' She couldn't help but notice the use of his nickname for her – _oh God, she loved it when he called her 'Ponine_ – or the irritation and confusion on his lovely face: _was he jealous?_ _Today is the best!_  
She beamed at him, and replied breathlessly 'Marius! You're here! Sit down, I'll buy you a drink, what would you like?'  
'How can you afford to buy me a drink, 'Ponine?' He asked.  
An uncomfortable silence fell across the café.  
She blushed. She supposed it was a fair question, he knew she was poor, but the bluntness in his tone still stung.  
Determined to be cheerful, she walked backwards towards the bar, looking into his beautiful brown eyes all the while. 'Why does it matter? Is a beer ok? Bud's your favourite, right?'  
'But Éponine, you can't afford that.'  
'Jesus, Marius, let her buy you a sodding beer!' Courfeyrac couldn't stay silent any longer. Why was Marius embarrassing Éponine like this?  
'Yes. Sorry 'Ponine. I'm just distracted.'  
'It's fine, babe, here's your beer' she purred at him in what she hoped was a sexy voice, before taking her seat at the table again, never taking her eyes off Marius._He didn't mean to be rude; he's just being sweet and looking out for me. Honestly, he's so perfect. I wish he'd love me like I love him._

Her internal monologue was interrupted as Enjolras walked in.

He simply walked straight over and sat down opposite her, next to Combeferre, and immediately pulled out a huge book, oblivious to the silent laughter that was barely being contained around him. He also didn't notice Grantaire, who had tipped two of the Pot Noodles on his head and was staring at him with wide, crazy bug-eyes, and his jaw dropped so low it looked almost painful. Around a minute passed, and Enjolras clearly noticed something was amiss – Éponine's chest was tight with controlling her laughter by this point – and looked up and around at the group. His jaw tightened and he glared at the drunkard as he asked 'Grantaire, what the hell are you doing? Stop looking at me like that this instant.' He spoke in a low, serious voice that promised danger if the answer didn't please him.  
There was no answer.  
'Grantaire. Seriously, Grantaire. GRANTAIRE FOR GOD'S SAKE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?'  
This continued for another couple of minutes, with Enjolras getting angrier and angrier, until Grantaire finally deadpanned 'you're… you're just so beautiful.'

The room collapsed, the laughter that had been contained for almost five minutes finally released.

'Grantaire don't be ridiculous. What are you doing?'  
'I can't take my eyes off you, Enjolras'  
'Stop it'  
'I can't. How can I look at anything else again? Nothing compares to your beauty!'  
'Grantaire, I'm warning you'  
'Never have I gazed upon such a glorious figure, my heart is on fire, you are the summer and the spring and the sunshine all at once'  
'You sound like Jehan.'  
'I feel a stirring deep in my loins that I have never felt before'  
'Stop. Staring. At me. And that's revolting'  
'Until today, I thought France was my only love, a free and equal country the only beauty I could gaze upon forever, but I was wrong –'  
'Hang on, are you supposed to be me?'  
The laughter was louder than ever.  
'I, Enjolras, champion of the free world, cannot remove my eyes from you, the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I would shake your hand, but I am afraid that I may just explode in an orgasmic passion –'  
It was the mention of a refused handshake that did it. Enjolras finally caught on.  
'It wasn't like that! Courfeyrac, tell him! This is preposterous! And my hair doesn't even remotely resemble noodles!'

The room was laughing too hard to notice that Éponine had crept out of the room and down the stairs.  
Still chuckling quietly to herself, she found Gavroche at the bottom of the stairs.  
'Alright?'  
'Yeah, got to run, Gav, sorry baby, the inn'll be opening.' She thrust a 20 euro note into his hand with a 'look after yourself, ok?' before she left.  
'Wow! Thanks, Ép! You too!'  
'You know me, Gav. I know my way around!' she shouted over her shoulder, before running all the way back to the inn.

* * *

**PHEWWWW that was long**

**This was difficult, but so much fun to write! S****orry it's kind of filler, but I had to introduce them all somehow**

**I hope you like it anyway, and please keep reviewing, either positively or negatively, it makes my day to read what you all have to say!  
**

**Thank you, again :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N on last chapter - A friend just told me that 'mortal' isn't widely used outside of Newcastle (where I'm from), so if there was any confusion, it just means really drunk basically :L sorry, I'll keep the Geordie-isms out in future!**

**Trigger warning for some stronger language and upsetting scenes of a violent and sexual nature - nothing too graphic but if you don't like that, you might want to give this chapter a miss. Sorry!  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables... yet (muahahaha)**

* * *

'Well, look who it is. Bonjour, Mam'selle, I see ya've come back to grace us with your presence!' Thénardier sneered as she walked through the door. 'In the back. Now. There's customers waitin' for ya.

_Oh please, no. I was having such a good day._

'Not today Pa, please. Let me have the night off from… that. I'll do anything else, please!' _Jesus, Éponine. Are you seriously_**_begging_******_right now? Where did your self-respect go?_  
He sneered at her as she spoke and sniggered darkly when she stopped. The cruel, cold sound of his laugh sent shivers down her spine. 'We'll be needin' a bit more dough than usual tonight, so I suggest get yourself back there before I make you'  
'Wait! I've got money! Look, lots!' she held out the cash from earlier to her father. 'This, plus the extra if I sing, it's the same and I don't have to…' His piggy little eyes lit up with greed and for one, glorious moment she honestly thought she was getting out of it until -  
'Thanks Aretha, but I'd rather hear slightly different noises coming from ya than ya usual warbling, if ya catch my drift' he guffawed at his own 'joke'.  
_Dick._'Wow Pa. That's hilarious. Really, you could have a career in comedy. It was so funny I forgot for a second that you're a massive twat who's trying to whore off his own flesh and blood.'

He stopped laughing, a murderous look in his eye, then swung for her with all his might, punching her square in the face. _Nicely done, 'Ponine. That was super helpful. '_Go on, get back there! And if that fuckin' bruises before ya done ya'd better be ready to make up the money ya've lost me!'  
_BRILLIANT._

She made her way to the back room, where a very drunk, very hairy, middle-aged man was waiting by the bed. He stood up as she entered, spouting off a long, slurred speech about how she was beautiful._Beautiful people aren't whored out by their fathers. I'm not beautiful. I'm a source of income.__  
_'Look, Casanova, you've paid so that you don't even have to seduce me, so can you please just do us both a favour and get the fuck on with it?'  
He grinned, showing an impressive array of missing teeth. 'Oh good, I like 'em fiery.'  
And then he pushed her against the wall.  
_Think of Marius, think of Marius.__  
_He pressed himself up against her_  
__His beautiful brown eyes_  
He pushed his mouth roughly against hers_  
__Those freckles_  
She could taste the gin on his breath_  
__His crooked smile_  
His hand fumbled at the fastening on her jeans_  
__The way he calls you 'Ponine_  
He dropped his own pants. She knew what was coming next and closed her eyes, desperately dreaming of far-away places and the love she could have had, if only everything were like it used to be.

After what felt like years, six more men had come and gone. The last of them had been the worst: he completely sober and had taken his time, punching and kicking her before he had his way with her. Éponine lay on her side on the dirty floor, in nothing but her bra, exhausted, in pain and more feeling more helpless than she ever had before. She heard the creak of the door and closed her eyes, curling into the foetal position._Please, God, no more.__  
_She heard the familiar cruel chuckle of her father. 'That's it for tonight, slut. Get the fuck out of here, your sister needs to clean.'  
Slowly, carefully, she stood up and pulled on her jeans. She kept her head down as she walked past her father and sister without a word, straight upstairs to her room to lay face-down on her bed. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes but she was damned if she was going to let anybody see her break down.  
She heard Azelma come in and go to bed shortly afterwards. When she was sure that her sister was asleep, she crept out the room and into the night.

She walked and walked. The same streets she had walked early that morning with Gavroche, when everything was wonderful, even just for a while. Unable to hold it back any more, she folded her arms tightly and let out a sob.

_NO._

_YOU ARE NOT LETTING THEM BREAK YOU, EPONINE THENARDIER._

_YOU CAN GET THROUGH THIS._

_THEY ARE NOT WORTH YOUR TEARS._

_STOP CRYING._

She stopped. The night was so silent it was smothering her. She needed to do something, _anything_. So she looked at the sky and began to sing.

* * *

**I'M SORRY**

**IT WAS HARD TO WRITE**

**You might get another chapter today if it helps, all this Royal Baby excitement has me too cheerful to leave it there!**

**(ps what do you guys think, boy or girl? I think it's a girl and if it is, I reckon one of it's middle names'll be Diana :D)**

**(pps no cheating if you read this after it's born, you rascals)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N so me and Smiles1998 were both wrong - it's a boy! I can't stop smiling! YAYY! So happy for the Duke and Duchess and of course, our new Prince!**

**How weird is it that that baby will be my King one day?! (I say 'my' in case you're not British, which most of you aren't... unlucky, friends. We have a special golden easel just to announce babies. If you are British, our king :L)**

**I couldn't leave it on a miserable chapter today, it's too happy an occasion! So have another one :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis or Cats. I don't even own a cat, let alone capital C Cats the musical.**

* * *

'_In the case of a guilty plea voluntarily submitted by the defendant, particularly early in the case, sentences are often reduced for minor crimes, at the discretion of the Judge in session.'_

Enjolras sighed in frustration. He had definitely read that sentence at least four times in the last half an hour. He already knew all this, of course - it was far from the first time he had read this book – but he was determined to squeeze some more knowledge from it before his exams. He looked around at the deserted café - his friends were all long gone, and even the staff had left once he had reassured them that Musichetta, the owner, would not mind him being left alone to lock up. It seemed it might be time for him to retire for the night; he clearly wasn't taking any more information in anyway.

He locked the café before starting on the walk back to his apartment. He enjoyed the peace and silence of Saint-Michel at night, but wished he hadn't let Combeferre convince him to leave his car at home. It wasn't as warm as it was earlier.

He was minutes from home when he heard a desperate, heart-wrenching sob from the next street over. He stopped walking and frowned, his ears straining to hear any other clues as to what was going on. _Is someone in trouble?_ After a minute, when he had heard nothing more, he was about to continue on his way, when out of nowhere he heard a beautiful voice coming from the same direction as before.

_Midnight  
Not a sound from the pavement  
Has the moon lost her memory?  
She is smiling alone.  
In the lamp-light, the withered leaves collect at my feet  
and the wind begins to moan._

Enjolras felt glued to the spot. Who was singing? Was it the same person who sobbed? Why were they singing? It was clearly a woman… why was the voice faintly familiar? And… why did they sound so sad?

_Memory  
All alone in the moonlight  
I can smile at the old days  
I was beautiful then._

Perhaps he should go and see who it was.

_I remember the time I knew what happiness was…  
Let the memory live again._

His curiosity got the better of him and he cut down an alleyway to reach the next street along, Rue Xavier Privas.

_Every street-lamp seems to beat a fatalistic warning.  
Someone mutters  
and a street-lamp gutters  
and soon it will be morning._

He turned the corner to see a small figure in dark clothing making their way slowly up the street. '_Whoever it is, they're a fool, it's far too cold to be out in just a t-shirt'_ he thought to himself. Strange... he was sure those long, dark brown curls were familiar.

_Daylight  
I must wait for the sunrise  
I must think of a new life  
And I mustn't give in_

He saw the curls tumble further down the stranger's back as she lifted her head, almost as though she was daring someone to question her. The emotion in her voice was heart-breaking.

_When the dawn comes, tonight will be a memory too  
And a new day will begin_

His stomach hit the floor in shock as he realised it was Éponine.

_Burnt out ends of smoky days  
The stale cold smell of morning_

He stayed a short distance behind her as she kept walking. She was headed for the river.

_The street-lamp dies, another night is over_

Why would she be going there? Why was she even out at this time of night?

_Another day is dawning_

They had reached the river. She seemed to stop singing at this point, which, for some reason, left him disappointed. _'Why would that disappoint you Enjolras? Get a hold of yourself, for God's sake. You don't even know her!'  
_She stood for a while, staring a while at Notre-Dame across the river. '_Should I let her know I'm here? She seems upset. I could help her, find out what's wrong?'_ The events of that morning and the teasing in the café flashed across his memory. '_Perhaps not…'_

He felt the weight lift from his stomach as she began to sing again, louder and more passionately than before. As she did so, she stood on the stone wall that ran along the river and stretched out her arms.

_TOUCH ME!  
IT'S SO EASY TO LEAVE ME!  
ALL ALONE WITH THE MEMORY  
OF MY DAYS IN THE SUN!  
IF YOU TOUCH ME  
_A horrible thought suddenly occurred to him – she… she wasn't going to jump, was she?  
_YOU'LL UNDERSTAND WHAT HAPPINESS IS -_  
Before he could stop himself he shouted 'Don't!'

Her singing abruptly stopped. Enjolras moved back into the shadows of Rue Xavier Privas, out of sight. She looked at her feet, then all around her, hopping off the wall back onto the pavement of Quai Saint-Michel. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief – she clearly wasn't planning on jumping off anything.

She looked all around for a moment, focussing for a little while on the corner where he was hiding. Enjolras held his breath. _I really don't want to have to explain what I'm doing here. I'm not even sure myself._

'Montparnasse?' she said quietly. 'Is that you?'

Silence.

Apparently satisfied there was nobody there, she turned to face away from him again, towards the cathedral. Taking his opportunity, Enjolras turned and walked briskly away, back in the direction of the apartment he shared with Combeferre.

He was halfway down the street when he heard, softer than before:

_Look  
A new day has begun…_

All the way back, he scolded himself for his nosiness and stupidity. _Honestly, leave her alone. She doesn't even like you after you freaked her out with that staring session. You're an idiot. An idiot who deserves to get no sleep because he wandered the streets of Paris all night after some girl he doesn't even know. She's none of your business .Nothing to do with you. Best to forget this whole episode even happened._

* * *

Éponine was at the river, standing on the railings, feeling like she could fly. The cathedral was lit up like a beautiful Christmas tree. She was finally alone and could release some of the emotions she'd been bottling up all day.

First of all, she was still annoyed at that Enjolras not shaking her hand. She was used to people looking down on her but that was a step too far. What was his problem? _And why is it bothering me this much?_

She also didn't know why tonight had affected her so much - it wasn't as though she hadn't done it before, and there was still no danger of her worst nightmare - Marius finding out - coming true. Maybe it was the way above average number of men. Maybe it was the violence of the last guy. Maybe it was that Azelma didn't even try and stop it, as usual. Maybe it was the contrast to how happy she had been earlier that day. Singing allowed her to get rid of all the anger and the hurt without exploding.

Then, out of nowhere, she heard a shout behind her.

'DON'T!'

_Who was that? You idiot, Éponine, someone could easily follow you with all that noise you were making. What if it's one of Papa's gang? Wait… Don't what?  
She looked at her feet and bit back a laugh - someone must have thought she was going to jump. What's the point? What good would that do!?_

She hopped down from the barrier to have a better look around. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw movement on the corner of Rue Xavier Privas, where she had come from.

_Who cared enough to stop her? Marius wouldn't be out at this time… none of Les Amis would, and besides, she hardly knew them. Wait, it couldn't be... him. Could it?_

'Montparnasse?'

Silence.

'_Parnasse wouldn't stay hidden once he knew I'd noticed him._

_I'm just being paranoid. There's nobody here. It was a bird or something._

The sky was deep blue, with the first light of dawn on the horizon. Notre Dame looked beautiful.

Against her own better judgement, she finished softly '_Look, a new day has begun…' _before turning for home.

* * *

**Please keep reviewing, it makes my day as much as royal babies!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for being such a buzzkill everybody...  
Another chapter for you, since a big thunderstorm woke me up at an ungodly hour this morning... dammit Thor.  
Disclaimer: Nope.**

* * *

She must have fallen asleep, even if only for an hour, because she was woken up by her sister softly shaking her shoulder at half past seven.

'Éponine? Eponine, you need to get up, Ma's getting out of prison today and Pa wants the whole inn tidied before she gets here.' Not getting any response from her big sister, Azelma poked her in the side, meaning to shock her awake.

Pain shot through Éponine's whole body, causing her to groan and turn over onto her back, a strained expression on her bruised face. The sight of her battered sister caused Azelma to suck in a sharp breath.  
'That bad, huh?' Éponine's voice was barely a raspy whisper, but it was still full of wry humour. Unfortunately, her audience wasn't really in the mood for jokes.  
'Did that man do this to you?'  
'One of the men did, yeah. Good old Father Dearest really stitched me up this time.'  
'Oh, Éponine, it's not his fault.'_ Wait, what? _Slowly easing herself into a sitting position, careful not to make any sudden movements, she looked Azelma directly in the eyes.  
'Please tell me you're not serious.'  
The younger sister broke the eye contact and looked at the floor. 'He doesn't mean for them to hurt you, how could he know that guy was violent? What do you want him to do, interview them before he lets them in? Ask for a resumé?' _I cannot believe what I am hearing right now.  
_'Well the first solution that springs to mind is just _not whore out his own daughter_'  
'You know we need the money Éponine. And he's still your Papa.'

She couldn't take any more of this. She stood up, ignoring her screaming joints, and walked out the room, strangely thankful that she hadn't changed out of her clothes before passing out.

'Éponine, where are you going, you have to help me tidy up!?' _You don't seriously expect help?_  
'I don't give a shit about tidying up. I'm not doing anything for any of you anymore.'  
'But Ma's coming back from prison! Things can be good again!' At this, Éponine actually laughed out loud, a harsh bark, completely without any humour. It was a cynical sound that should never come from a nineteen-year-old girl, but Éponine had seen more to be cynical about in her short life than most people would in a hundred years.  
'Can you hear yourself Azelma? When has Ma coming back ever made a difference? She's been in and out of prison more times than I've had hot dinners. More than all the hot dinners we've both had, combined. She'll be back in next week, and even if she's not it won't make a difference. We'll still be poor. They'll still treat us like shit. You'll still be a slave and I'll still be the local slut!'

None of these thoughts were new to Éponine, but saying them out loud made her feel stronger somehow.

'Do you know what, Azelma? I've finally had enough.' She turned on her heel and stormed back into their room, gathering up the few possessions she had: a small pile of clothes, her phone and charger, a hairbrush, three beaten-up paperback books, a CD and some dog-eared photos.

'Had enough of what? Ép, you're being ridiculous, calm down! You're scaring me.'

Pushing past her sister, she grabbed her toothbrush from the bathroom and stopped at the top of the stairs to look Azelma directly in the face. The young girl stood in the doorway to their room, her eyes wide and scared. She looked so lost and confused that Éponine's resolve almost broke. Almost.

'I'm leaving, 'Zelma.' The silence that followed this simple statement was deafening. Éponine was first to break it. 'Please come with me. I can keep us both safe. And Gav.'  
Silent tears ran down Azelma's cheeks and her voice was thick with emotion as she answered. 'How can you keep us safe? Any of us? We've – YOU'VE got nowhere to go Ép. That handsome bourgeois of yours won't take you in, what would people think? And it's not like you have any friends. How can you possibly even suggest that I would be safe with you?!'_The streets would be safer than here!_  
'I'll figure something out, I know my way around, you know that. _Please_ Azelma, I can't leave you here, they'll just give you all of my work to do as well. All of it 'Zelma. Even the type I did last night.'  
'They won't! You'll see, it'll be better! They_ love_ us Éponine, they're our _parents!' _Azelma's tears were falling thick and fast now.  
'But they DON'T! They haven't for years, especially not me! They barely even acknowledged Gavroche's existence, right from the day he was born! How can you not see this!?' _What can I say that will convince you, how can you ignore something so blindingly obvious?!_  
'I'm not leaving, Éponine.'

The two sisters stared at each other for a minute, the air full of emotion: anger, sadness, even some love. Because despite all her faults, Éponine did love Azelma. Leaving her behind would be the hardest thing she had ever done.

But she couldn't stay here. Not for another minute.

She walked down the stairs slowly, her movements hindered by the haphazard jumble of belongings in her arms, and the stiffness and pain in every muscle in her body. When she reached the door to the inn itself, she turned back to get a final look at her sister.

'I love you Azelma. Come and find me the second you have any problems, ok? Promise me.'

'I love you too Éponine. Please don't leave!'

Determined not to cry, all Éponine could manage was a whisper. 'I have to.'  
And with that, she turned and walked away, through the inn, and out into the street.

She'd finally done it.

She was free.

* * *

**Aaaaand she's OUT OF THE INN!**

**I think I need more sleep.**

**Anyway, now that you're done reading this, go read weeeell's fics - she's really good and has been absurdly nice to me about this story, so go check her out please! :D**

**In case I'm not giving you enough to do, could you maybe find it in your hearts to review, please? I promise I'll hug you if we ever meet in person :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Master has given 'Ponine a sock! 'Ponine is freeeeeeeeeeee!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis, but I did invent the phrase dick-nosed arse canoe. So that's something.**

* * *

Freedom at last. It was a weird feeling: she could go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. She would have sworn that she saw more colour and light than ever before, that she heard more laughter, more music. Her body was battered, but she felt more alive in every way. Everything was the same, but so gloriously different. Even the air tasted strange to her.

'_Why didn't I do this years ago? I wasted years of my life in that shithole!'_ She grinned at nothing in particular, clutching her belongings more tightly to her chest. '_Where shall I go first? The café? I'll have to leave my clothes somewhere. And I need to change. I'll go…'_ Well. That was just it. Where on earth was she going to go? What was she going to do with her things? How was she going to get money?

Azelma, though stupid and blind in so many ways had been right about one thing: Éponine really had nowhere to turn. No-one to go to.

She supposed she could go to Gavroche's elephant. No, it would be too cramped. She was small, but not THAT small.

Marius's? Not before she'd had a wash, he couldn't see her like this.

Montparnasse's? No, he'd tell her parents. Plus he could be just about anywhere – his apartment was more of a base than an actual home: he kept his things there and washed there, and ate there occasionally. But he never slept there. He had said once that a bed, a physical bed, would just be something to tie him down and Montparnasse _loathed _being tied down. He went where he pleased, doing what he pleased. Old Thénardier kidded himself he was in charge, but he wasn't, not really. Orders were more like suggestions to Montparnasse and he rarely followed them, but he would definitely tell her Pa should she go to him. Not straight away, of course, he'd have other things on his mind. But eventually.

'_Oh well. The streets it is.' _She thought to herself. Finding the longest, most secluded alleyway she could find, she changed into her only other jeans and a different t-shirt. She had mastered the art of the quick change years ago, but today her bruised body held her up and she was thankful to be out of sight of anybody. Éponine then stashed her things under a pile of rubble, careful not to damage them. Especially not her photos or her CD.

Satisfied nobody would find her belongings there, she left for the café. When she got there, only Enjolras was at the Amis' table so she tried to sneak back out without him noticing. Unfortunately, her knee chose that particular moment to lock, sending her sprawling across the floor and taking several chairs with her. '_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking OW' she yelled in her head.  
_A cough sounded from above her. She looked sheepishly up into the frowny, disapproving eyes of a young man with golden curls.

* * *

He fought to keep a straight face despite the ridiculousness of the scene and a small, '_misjudged, foolish and immature'_ part of him that wanted to laugh at her course language.  
'I was going to ask if you were hurt, but from that… colourful reaction, I can infer from context'_  
_She grimaced, showing her dimples. 'That was out loud, huh?'  
_Don't you dare laugh. '_I'm afraid so, Mademoiselle.'_  
_He held out his hand to help her up, but she just raised a questioning eyebrow, tilted her head and stared at him. Didn't she understand?  
'I am offering you a hand with standing up, Mademoiselle.'  
'I can see that.'  
_So take it. _'Are you going to take it?' He was getting impatient.  
'Probably not. I don't need any help. Plus I'd hate to get it dirty with all my poor, after you were so careful to avoid it yesterday.'

_Oh, THAT'S what this is about.  
Was that really why she thought he hadn't shaken her hand?  
_'That's not why I didn't shake your hand, Mademoiselle.'  
'OK let's get a few things straight.' Her eyes lit up with a fire he had never seen before, and she raised her chin slightly as she spoke, biting out her words with all the force of a machine gun. 'First of all, my name is Éponine, not Mademoiselle. Fucking learn it. Secondly, don't patronise me, wank stain. I know what you rich bourgeois boys are like, all Abercrombie and Fitch and 'Oh no, I broke a nail!' (She had switched from her own low rasp to a high-pitched whine that felt like it was needling into his ears for that part of the rant.) Thirdly, I don't give a shit why you didn't shake my hand. Frankly, I wouldn't shake yours now if you paid me, you dick-nosed arse canoe. '

During this outburst, Enjolras had kept his face passive, his mask of apathy firmly in place. But inside, he was on fire, not only with anger at her unfair and unfounded accusations, but also with with-held laughter at the phrase 'dick-nosed arse canoe' and another feeling that he couldn't quite place, that only seemed to intensify as he held her piercing gaze. Most of all though, he was impressed at her ability to stand up for herself. He hadn't expected it from Pontmercy's lovesick shadow.

The tension in the room was broken as a low whistle sounded from the doorway. He looked over, to see Bossuet, Feuilly, Courfeyrac and Grantaire crowded in the doorway, matching stunned looks on all their faces, with a grinning Gavroche behind Courf's leg. Looking around at the bar, he noticed a slack-jawed Musichetta gaping at them, a half-iced cake and piping bag abandoned on the bench behind her. _Really, it wasn't all that. Why are they all so surprised?_

* * *

The priceless looks on the faces of the men at the top of the stairs and the striking redhead behind the bar told her that nobody had a go at Enjolras very often. Very aware of all the eyes in the room following her – in particular a pair of (almost obscenely bright) blue ones, which belonged to the curly-haired man that she had just verbally pantsed, and had lit up in a very strange way during her rant – she gingerly picked herself up off the ground, then self-consciously wiped her hands on her jeans._ Am I in trouble or something? Why are they all looking at me as though I just sprouted fifty-foot wings and a unicorn horn?_

The silence was finally broken by the redhead. 'Honey, do you want a job?'

Éponine grinned.

* * *

**Sorry for not replying to some of the reviews yet, had a surprisingly busy day today, but I will, I promise!**

**Don't let my rudeness discourage you from telling me what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables. If I did, Nick Jonas would definitely not have been the 25th Anniversary Marius.**

* * *

As the laughter stopped, the room went back to normal: Musichetta returned to icing her cake, the men sat down, Enjolras returned to his reading and Éponine walked over to the bar. She needed a job, and while she was pretty sure Musichetta had been joking, it was worth a try.  
'Hi… Musichetta, right?'  
'That's me.'  
'I'm Éponine… were you serious about a job? Because I could really do with one and and-'  
Musichetta cut her off 'You're hired!'  
'- if you were serious… wait, what?'  
'You're hired. Any girl who can put Enjolras in his place is more than welcome to work here in my book.'  
'Really? You're not mad that I yelled at one of your customers?'  
Musichetta just laughed. It was a musical laugh that lit up her face. 'These boys are here so much they're more like family than customer. Except Joly and Bossuet, it would be weird if they were part of my family.'  
'Oh are you guys….?'  
'Yeah. Anyway, come by tomorrow at 8 and I'll show you the ropes!'  
'Wow, thank you! I'll be here! Thank you so much!'  
'No problem, honey'  
She shared a smile with the redhead before walking over to the boys with a big smile on her face. She hadn't expected finding employment to be that easy, or that she would get it somewhere so nice and familiar – she would be able to see Marius every day! _Who knew there were such nice people in the world? Six months ago I didn't know any, and now look!_

* * *

She took the empty seat next to Courfeyrac, who turned and grinned at her.  
'I hope you know that I am now convinced you are completely perfect, Éponine.'  
She laughed. 'You can tell we only just met… what on earth makes you say that?!'  
'Well you're beautiful, you're funny, you stood up to Enjolras… seriously it's a long list. You have no faults. I'm convinced of it.' She was still laughing when Gavroche appeared.  
'Alright?'  
Courfeyrac's smile widened and he pulled a seat up between them for Gavroche. 'We're doing great, thanks Gav, how are you? We were just talking about your lovely sister giving Enjolras a dressing-down'  
Gavroche grinned, showing all the gaps in his teeth where his adult ones were still growing in. 'She's sommat once she gets goin' isn't she? That was nothin', you should see her when she's really mad. Terrifies the livin' daylights outta people.'  
'I can imagine!'  
'Useful though, she's got me out of a few tricky spots.',  
'I bet. You want a milkshake, buddy?'  
The little urchin's face lit up at the mention of a milkshake, and he excitedly nodded his head up and down. Courfeyrac left them to go to the bar, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Gavroche's face turned serious and he leaned forward to talk quietly to her.  
'You wanna get Joly to look at ya ribs when ya see 'im Ép. I saw ya wincing standin' up so you ain't pullin the wool over my eyes.'  
'I'm fine! Honestly, it's just bruising, it doesn't matter. It'll wear off in a couple of days.'  
'You need to get out o'that inn, Ép.'  
Éponine grinned. 'Actually I meant to tell you – I have, I left this morning with all my stuff! I work here, now. Musichetta just hired me.'  
'Really!?'Gav's face was alight again.  
'Really really, I start tomorrow.'  
'Ah brilliant! So ya'll be here all the time?'  
'Yep!'  
'What about Azelma?'  
Éponine's face fell.  
'Not with ya then.'  
'No. Not yet, anyway.'  
He stood up and wrapped his skinny little arms around her shoulders. 'It's not your fault, Ép, she always was a bit thick. We're the smart ones, you an' me.' Éponine smiled and returned his hug. She really loved her little brother, he was a sweetheart…even if he was a cheeky little shit sometimes.

They finished their hug as Courfeyrac returned with a milkshake for each of them. 'Here we go!'  
'Thanks, Courf!'  
'Oh, thank you! Can I give you some money for these?' _Please say no, I don't have any.  
_'Don't be silly'  
'Hey, you can give me loads o' free ones now ya working 'ere, Ép!'  
Courfeyrac looked at her, confusion and surprise all over his ever-cheery face 'Have you actually got a job here, Éponine?'  
'I have, I start tomorrow'  
'But what about your other job… I'm sure Marius mentioned you worked in a pub or something'  
_Marius talks about me? _She felt a pleasant, excited feeling in her gut, and her face glowing warm with a rising blush.'I worked in my parents' inn but… not any more… Marius said that?'  
'Yeah, we asked about you a few weeks back, when you first started coming here. He wasn't very forthcoming with information though, hardly told us anything. You're still a mystery, Éponine, which I would very much like to solve' _Well, if I wasn't blushing before, now I definitely am.  
_'GROSS, STOP TRYING TO PULL ÉPONINE!'

The whole room turned to look, just as Marius walked in with Combeferre and Bahorel, who immediately shouted 'DAMMIT COURFEYRAC, WE HAD A DEAL!'  
'You had a deal?!' laughed Éponine. 'What was the deal?'  
'Neither of them would try to sleep with you, so you get to pick' supplied Feuilly.  
Combeferre cut in. 'I can only apologise for this, Éponine, I did try and stop them.'  
'Besides it's a pointless deal, she's obbbviously gonnapickme' slurred Grantaire, causing a collective laugh to rise from the group.  
Enjolras spoke for the first time since they sat down 'I'm not sure the 'drunken fool' flirting technique is the most effective Grantaire.'  
'And'owexactly would you know, Marble Man?' was the retort.  
Jehan joined in 'Well I've got a clear advantage, as poetry is the language of love.'  
'Love' was apparently a step too far for Gavroche who shouted 'GUYS THIS IS GROSS, STOP IT'  
'You all realise this is why I don't let you bring women to these meetings' grumbled Enjolras.  
'I thought it was because you were scared of them' piped up Bossuet.  
'I am not scared of women!'  
Bahorel cut in 'Guys, guys, guys, back to the matter at hand, you're all deluded if you think Éponine's getting with anyone but me, she wants someone who can show her a good time.'  
Marius 'Nobody's getting with 'Ponine while I'm around, what would I do without my best friend?'Éponine had been smiling and laughing throughout the whole 'discussion', but her face really lit up at Marius's comment. _Am I dreaming? Is he jealous?  
_'I'm the one who actually got her to talk to us, guys, it's going to be me!' declared Courfeyrac.  
'Who says I'm sleeping with anyone!?' she pointed out.

This clearly hadn't crossed anyone's mind except Combeferre's, as he laughed at the shocked, dejected and confused looks on everyone else's faces.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar way, with Enjolras reading, and the rest of the group shouting over each other and laughing. Éponine spent most of her time with Marius, Grantaire, Gavroche and Courfeyrac. It was almost seven at night when Enjolras shut his book and stood up abruptly, silencing the loud chatter.

'We have done no planning today. None. And we are supposed to be going to the rally tomorrow.'  
'Planning?' Éponine whispered to Marius, quietly enough that nobody else could hear.  
'Enjolras fancies himself as something of a revolutionary. Wants everyone equal or something. I doubt anything'll come of it but some of the lads are pretty passionate.'  
'Oh.'  
'How have you not heard his speeches, Éponine? We've been coming here for weeks!'  
_Yeah, like I'm here for the speeches. I couldn't even have told you what he looked like until yesterday.  
_'I tune out a bit when he starts talking, to be honest'  
Marius chuckled under his breath 'Me too, sometimes. He's a good speaker though, worth a listen. He'll be a good lawyer when he's qualified.'  
'He's a law student, like you?'  
'Yes, so are Courfeyrac, Bossuet, and Bahorel.'  
'Are you all students?'  
'All except Feuilly. He makes fans.'  
'What does everybody else study?'  
He regarded her curiously for a moment. 'You never even spoke to any of them until yesterday. Why all the questions?'  
'No reason really, I'm just nosy.'  
He laughed quietly 'Jehan is studying Literature and Sociology, Grantaire does Art, Joly does Medicine and Combeferre does Philosophy, but I think he has some medical knowledge, too.'  
'Holy shit, you're all really smart!'  
'Loving the tone of surprise'  
'There was just full-on discussion about who gets to sleep with me first. I AM surprised.'  
'…Fair point.'

'Marius. Éponine. Are we interrupting you?' For the second time that day, Éponine met the disapproving eyes of Enjolras.  
Marius spoke first 'Sorry. Carry on. I was just explaining the situation to Éponine.'  
'Thank you.' And then he was off again.

Éponine decided to actually listen this time, and was surprised by the causes that got him most fired up. Why should a rich guy like him care about free legal support and education? There were some pretty significant gaps in his understanding of life on the streets, she noticed, but that was probably to be expected: he'd never been in that position, how could he know? Marius was right though, he was a fantastic speaker. Even cynical, realistic, experienced Éponine found herself almost able to believe that he could fix things. Hell, he could at least help.

She was certain of one thing though: for the first time ever, she completely disagreed with Marius. There was too much passion in the eyes of these men for nothing to come of this.

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**Hmmmm, not entirely happy with this one**

**Thank you for all your reviews, please keep them coming, I love to read them :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm much happier with this one, so I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks everyone for being so nice about the last chapter :)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Les Mis, it would definitely be a bit more cheerful, and a lot less good.**

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For Éponine the next few weeks passed quickly and blissfully. She started her job at the Café Musain and found she absolutely loved it, quickly becoming close friends with Musichetta. She enjoyed dealing with the customers in the main café, but the best days were the days she ran the room upstairs, where she could talk to her friends while she worked. The extra time with them allowed her to see their little habits: Enjolras would come whenever he didn't have class, to study, read, and write speeches, and he only ever drank black coffee; Joly was usually tired from shifts at the hospital, but he never complained and was always bright and cheerful, particularly around Musichetta; Combeferre was kind and honest and was always ready to talk to you no matter what he was doing. And of course, when Marius came, she was happiest of all.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses, of course. She was still sleeping in her alleyway, but had stashed most of her things in a cupboard in the Musain. She wasn't starving, as Musichetta had said she was happy for her to eat what she wanted from the café, but her pride kept her from eating much more than she needed to survive, and she remained painfully thin. As often as she could, she washed her hair and had a quick wash in the sink at the café, but she knew that weeks of living on the street were showing: the bags under her eyes were bigger than ever from her lack of sleep, and there was a layer of ingrained dirt on her skin that she could never quite get off. This problem was exacerbated by the building site over one wall of her alleyway, which spread a cloud of thick brown dust all over the place on a daily basis. Her voice suffered, and she coughed like she had smoked sixty a day for the past fifty years. She hadn't heard a peep from Azelma since she left, except a text three days afterward to tell her that her Pa had finally noticed she had left, and was angrier than ever before. She replied begging her sister to get out of there, but her sister's reply made it plain she was going nowhere, and was furious with Éponine for leaving, so Éponine was always worried for the safety of her sister. Would she even know if something happened to her? Worst of all though, was the constant fear that she would be found by her father, or one of his gang. Her blood ran cold at the thought of the reaction they would have – they would certainly hurt her, possibly kill her. They might even hurt Les Amis, or Musichetta, which would be far worse than she could bear. The thought of Marius, or Grantaire, or Combeferre, or Courfeyrac in pain because of her… she didn't think she could live with herself. She had given her surname as Jondrette as protection, but it was unlikely to be enough permanently.

Despite all this, and having never really made coffees or tea before (the inn wasn't really a coffee kind of place), she became good at her job and learned quickly, so Musichetta decided to try and teach her to bake. When she first started, everything turned out quite well, with Éponine discovering she was actually pretty good at decorating cakes. She seemed to almost literally glow with pride when 'Chetta and the Amis complimented her on it.

It all went downhill when Musichetta started letting her bake without supervision. Éponine, while very smart, had a short attention span, and got bored of measuring out amounts and following recipes pretty quickly, leading to 'creative' combinations such as tomato soup cupcakes and cookies with popcorn, crisps and chocolate chips. Some were surprisingly tasty, but others, such as the Nutella and pumpkin brownies, were so bad that even Grantaire couldn't swallow them, and Combeferre had to think for a full five minutes before he could say something nice about them. After that Musichetta decided she'd handle the baking and Éponine could decorate, for all their sakes.

There were a few surprises for Éponine and Les Amis over the passing weeks: Feuilly introduced them to his girlfriend Sylvie, a short and slightly plump lady with short, chocolate brown hair and a permanent blush. She was painfully shy when first introduced to them, but a combination of Combeferre's gentle personality and Éponine keeping Grantaire as far away as possible allowed her to lower her guard slightly and talk to everybody. To Éponine's delight, she turned out to be one of the nicest people she had ever met. She also had a passion for jewellery-making, and it turned out she had met Feuilly when selling to tourists near his stall. The next day, Feuilly bounded into the café, the most animated the Amis had ever seen him, to announce that they were engaged and would be married that December. Everyone was ecstatic: Feuilly was such a nice, friendly, hard-working man who deserved to be happy with a really great girl like Sylvie.

Another surprise came from a conversation Éponine had with Grantaire on the day of Feuilly's announcement. Happy as she was for her friend, his successful romantic life reminded her of her own lack of one, and she was sharing a bottle of whiskey with Grant outside the café that night to try and dull the pain, when he had suddenly said 'It doesn't make it go away.'  
Her silence told him that she didn't understand, so he sluggishly gestured to the bottle in her hand and continued 'the ache. In your heart. Drinking doesn't make it go away.'  
'What makes you think I've got heartache?' She had asked.  
'Come on, Pony. I've seen the way you look at Marius. Fuck, everyone's seen it. Except Marius, but he's thick as shit.'  
Éponine had given a wry smile and asked 'is it really that obvious?'  
'Yerrrrrrrrrrrrrrp.'  
'Oh.'  
They had sat quietly against the wall for a while, swigging their whiskey, when her slightly fuzzy brain caught up with what he had said. 'Wait, how do you know? Who's giving yooooou heartache?'  
He sighed and looked her in the eyes. 'I'll tell you if you swear you won't laugh'  
'Depends who it is'  
'…fine. It's Enjolras.'  
Éponine immediately sobered up, her eyes went wide and she had to stop her jaw from dropping. She didn't know who she'd been expecting him to say, but it wasn't Enjolras. They were polar opposites of each other!  
'REALLY? But you're so different!'  
He looked at his legs, stretched out on the street in front of him and shrugged. 'Opposites attract, I guess. Well, one of them does at least.'  
'Oh Grant, I had no idea. How long has this been for?'  
'I fancied him from the day I met him but it's only been like, full-scale love for about a year. Once I saw him all fired up, giving a speech about human rights or some shit, that was it.'  
'Aww that's adorable. Who knew you were such a Romeo?!'  
'Romeo gets the girl. Or I suppose the guy, in this case.'  
'He also dies. You don't want to be exactly like Romeo.'  
'Touché.' They tapped their bottles of whiskey together, and then took another swig each.  
'I'm definitely calling you Romeo from now on.'  
'Don't you dare.'  
'Fine… R. Nobody'll question just R.'  
He glared at her for a second or two then gave in. 'FINE you can call me R.'  
So she did, from then on. And after that night, the already close pair became best friends, virtually inseparable. She didn't tell him about the alleyway, because she knew he'd offer her a bed at his apartment, and she didn't want charity, but other than that, they told each other everything.

The biggest surprise of all for Éponine was how interested she became in the Amis' plans for social reform. As she grew closer to the students, she felt more confident voicing her opinions – not that she had ever been shy – and after a few weeks she was one of the most vocal members of the group, which inevitably led to frequent arguments with Enjolras. She hated to admit it, but his arrogance and refusal to listen to her was really getting into her head, and poor Musichetta often had to listen to long-winded rants as they worked. One day, during her fourth week of work at the café, she was in the middle of a particularly lengthy tirade ('He's so CONVINCED he's right about EVERYTHING! Doesn't he think I know a _bit_ more about life on the streets than he does? And why does he never even look me in the eye?! I swear to God, one of these days I'll _murder_ him and the jury'll let me off.') when Musichetta cut her off with an amused 'Jesus, Éponine, you've really let him under your skin. If I didn't also have to listen to your daily soliloquies on Marius, I'd think you had a thing for him.'  
Éponine had just scoffed 'Don't be bloody ridiculous.'  
'You can't deny he's pretty gorgeous!'  
'I have a hard time seeing past his giant ego, to be honest.'  
'I never thought you'd lie to me, Jondrette.'  
Keeping her eyes firmly on the cake she was decorating, Éponine allowed herself a small smirk._ 'Come on, you know he's seriously fucking HOT' _she thought to herself, but out loud, she just said coyly 'I don't know what you could _possibly_ mean.'

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**heehee**

**I love hearing from you all - especially YOU, pet. You, the one reading this. So it'd be super nice if you left a review. No pressure.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry this is super short, but my best friend's band had a gig tonight so I've been helping him all day and now I am pooped!**

**I also apologise for the slightly slow-moving plot, but excitement is coming thick and fast, I promise.**

**On an *ahem* completely unrelated note, at least one new chapter tomorrow, I think. Probably two.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables and I am too tired to think of anything funny.**

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He really had tried to ignore her.

At first, it was pretty easy. She ignored him too, for the most part; she served him his coffee and took away his empty cup with little more than a 'Hello'. There was the distracting swaying of those hips, the small but sweet smiles, and those bloody DIMPLES, of course, but he had years of practise ignoring that sort of thing. He was honestly surprised he had even noticed them.

But as time went on she appeared to get more and more confident, and harder and harder to ignore. In particular, whenever the Amis were all there and she let her guard down, he couldn't tune her out: the way she talked with her hands, the way she talked so much louder when she drank, or the way she threw her head back when she laughed, sending her thick dark curls tumbling down her back like a waterfall.

The real trouble, he decided, was that once you did notice something, you can't help but see it everywhere. So when after a few days of her job at the Musain he noticed that she sang quietly to herself as she worked, he couldn't help but hear it. Even putting his headphones on didn't help him focus, he just wanted to know what she was singing that day. After a few weeks, he even began to spot patterns in her clothing: she only had one black leather bomber jacket, two pairs of jeans and seven t-shirts that she wore in different combinations. Why did she never wear anything else? Didn't girls like shopping?

It couldn't be sentimental value: one of the t-shirts was bright pink with 'Je t'aime Orleans' across the front and when Combeferre had asked if she had been or wanted to go, she had only replied 'No, I haven't. And it's not far enough away for me.' She had also expressed her dislike of the colour pink on several occasions. He knew she wasn't well off, but surely her wages here would stretch to a new t-shirt? Or a loaf of bread every now and then, nobody should be that thin, especially when they work in a café. Even stranger, her skin never seemed completely clean, but surely she was able to _wash_, wherever she was living. Everywhere has a bath or a shower, for God's sake.

The worst day of all was the day he realised how her skin and eyes glowed when Gavroche was with her, because he couldn't even think of a single logical reason _why _that would be. He observed a similar phenomenon when she was around Pontmercy, but he had heard Combeferre mention that she was hopelessly in love with the buffoon, so at least he could see a potential cause for that… radiance.

After the first outburst, with her electrifying glare and the fire in her eyes that had affected him so strangely, he had resolved never to argue with her again, in order to avoid such distractions.

He hadn't realised at the time that she would be so _infuriating. _She constantly questioned his judgement during meetings, and spoke to him as though he had never been outside before: she may have more first-hand experience of the poorer streets of Paris, but he wasn't a complete idiot, he knew what went on.

Plus, if she made out that his life was easy one more time, it was going to take all his efforts not to flip the table over and trash the entire café. He wasn't living in some mansion or out of his parents' pockets: he earned what he got through his internship at the courts, and he split the rent 50/50 with Combeferre on a modest three-bedroomed apartment in San Michel. The only money he accepted from his parents went toward his tuition fee at the university, and he only accepted this because he knew it was pointless for his education to suffer for his pride. He didn't tell her all this, of course. It was none of her business. And he certainly wasn't giving her the satisfaction of knowing she'd struck a nerve.

So he resolved to stay steadfast in his refusal to meet her eye – particularly when there was a danger they'd be all ablaze again – and tune her out as much as he could. That was the only way he was going to get past this temporary lapse of concentration.

So they barely spoke outside of meetings. And he decided he wouldn't notice her skin or her hips or her smile or her clothes any more. Or her voice. Or her laugh. Or her hair. And definitely not those bloody dimples.


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm back! First one of the day, hopefully I can roll another one out later.  
****Disclaimer: still don't own Les Miserables**

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It was in mid-September that Éponine was reminded that nothing lasts forever.

Summer certainly doesn't. Autumn always comes. On the plus side, the leaves lit up Paris with reds and golds and yellows so bright they were like fireworks. She took to walking around the Jardin du Luxembourg, just to see the beautiful colours. On the other hand, the temperature dropped and the wind picked up almost overnight, giving her a daily reminder of how little a leather bomber jacket helps keep you warm. It started to rain most days: some days a constant drizzle that made the world look less bright and cheerful, others a shorter but more intense downpour that soaked you to your skin then was gone as soon as it arrived. Still living in her alleyway, Éponine spent more time in the rain than most and found that she actually enjoyed the stormy downpours: they seems to make Paris more beautiful somehow, and they cleared both the streets and her mind. She could wander where she pleased without a care in the world. The drizzle was definitely the worst, as it kept her from getting any restful sleep. The time it drizzled three nights in a row, she lay shivering and drenched on the alley floor, seriously considering taking her chances and going back to the inn. She hadn't been dry in three days. She was more tired than she'd ever been. Maybe a beating was worth it. (She was annoyed at herself for being so weak as soon as the thought entered her mind: '_Éponine Thénardier you have done too much for this freedom to give up now because of __**rain**__. Get a fucking hold on yourself!'_)

Clothes don't last forever, either. Her blue jeans and a couple of her t-shirts came out of the dryer in pieces on her most recent trip to the laundrette and apparently they won't give you your money back for that, even if it is 100% their fault, so she was down to one pair of jeans and seriously disgruntled that she wasted her precious wages to have her clothes destroyed. Someone up there had it in for her, she was sure of it; her favourite jeans were obliterated but that bloody stupid pink t-shirt survived unscathed.

Even with the weather and the laundrette-related misfortunes though, Éponine's life was still pretty good by her reckoning: she had a great job, her little brother was as cheeky and lovely as ever, she had a really, really great group of friends, who filled her heart with joy every time she saw them. And she had Marius, at the very least as her friend, and the hope that he would notice her one day.

But nothing lasts forever, does it?

Her life changed forever during the afternoon of the 18th of September. Musichetta had finally convinced her to take a day off ('it's just not healthy to work every day, Éponine!') so she had met Marius from his classes at 1pm and they had walked to the Jardin du Luxembourg to eat lunch together. They sat facing each other on the grass, Tupperware boxes of food between them, laughing and sharing stories and talking about anything and everything. Éponine had probably never been so happy: it was ages since she had spent any real time alone with Marius and he was in such a good mood. She even felt like he was listening to what she had to say and they talked about clever things like his classes at university or culture, as well as stupid stuff like whether Grantaire would notice if you hid stuff in his curls, or what Enjolras would be like in a strip club. They didn't even notice that it wasn't that warm or sunny, they just enjoyed the food and each other's company. He started a story about a trip he'd been on with his class and Éponine couldn't help but let her mind wander. '_Those people over there probably think we're a real couple. This must look like a lunch date. Maybe this __**is**__ a lunch date and I hadn't noticed and he's going to tell me he's seen the light at last and now everything is different and he loves me. And then we'll kiss under the trees and there'll be fireworks and inspirational music and leaves falling all around us and the strangers in the park will clap because they won't know who we are but they'll know we're in love and that's something to celebrate. And maybe when we get married, it'll be here, so we can remember how it felt to fall in love under the autumn leaves. I can just imagine the look in his eyes; it'll be a bit like –_

_That.'_

She was looking into his eyes and they were full of love. This was it, this was finally it!

'Éponine.' He spoke softly and slowly. 'I'm going to say something, but it's kind of coming out of the blue.'  
'Oh I'm sure it's not as shocking as you think.' _Seriously, I've been dreaming of this for a while now.  
_'Well… do you believe in love at first sight, Éponine?'  
'Definitely.'_ That's not applicable, idiot, you've seen me pretty much daily for at least the last six months.  
_'Well I didn't but… I think I'm in love.'  
_Oh my God this is really happening._ 'You are?'  
'And I know it sounds silly, but I feel somehow like you'll understand.'  
_You have no idea._ 'I understand completely!'  
'If my best friend doesn't, who could?'  
_WHO INDEED? _'I understand, and I'm so happy, Marius, I – I just can't believe it!'  
'Me neither! I've never seen such beauty! Look at her, Éponine; have YOU ever seen someone so beautiful?'  
_HER? What? _'What d'you mean, look at her?'  
'She's just over there!' He discreetly pointed to an older man and a young woman sitting on a bench together. She looked over, and her heart dropped like a stone.

The girl was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. She had mid-length blonde hair that framed her face with perfectly styled ringlets, which appeared to bounce in the breeze. Her heart-shaped face exuded beauty, kindness and sweetness, from her slightly pink cheeks to her smiling mouth and slightly pointed chin. She was slim, but her pale pink summer dress showed curves that would never appear on someone who frequently skipped meals, and this gave her a distinctly feminine grace which was emphasised by her crossed legs and clasped hands resting lightly in her lap. To top it off, the last time Éponine had seen eyes so wide and innocent they were on a baby deer.

'No.' she whispered truthfully. 'I've never seen anyone so beautiful.'  
'Should I talk to her?'  
_No. You should forget you ever saw her. _'I'm not sure that's a good plan, her dad's right there.' _And I faintly recognise him, which doesn't bode well. He looks pretty well-off and respectable but I don't know how I'd recognise him if so.  
_'You're right, and I wouldn't want to scare her.' He kept his adoring gaze on the girl, clearly lost in thought. Éponine looked around, determined not to cry. _You knew this was a possibility. Don't you dare let him see you cry. _  
'I wonder who those men are, talking to them. I hope they're not bothering them.'  
'I don't know Marius,' she sighed, exasperation in her voice. She turned to look back at the girl and her heavy heart seemed to stop dead.

It was her father and one of his associates.

'Perhaps I should go and make sure they're all right.'  
'NO.'  
He was clearly surprised by her sudden outburst. 'Éponine?'  
'We need to leave. Now.' She frantically grabbed all the Tupperware.  
'But how will I find her?'  
'I don't know, but Marius, that's my father.'  
'Your father knows her? Maybe you could find her for me!' _Yeah, I mean we often swap address books. We're just that close. _She was starting to panic as she heard an angry shout of 'YOU'RE THE BASTARD WHO BORROWED COSETTE!' _Cosette? I know that name…_  
'Marius I will do literally anything you want if you leave with me right now.' She stood up, and so did he, his face alight with excitement.  
'You'll find her for me?!'  
_Don't be stupid. '_Yes.' _Dammit.  
_She walked quickly out the park with her head down, trying to attract as little attention their way as possible. It wasn't easy with Marius walking backwards so he could look at her for longer and spouting comparisons about her various features and the Sun and the stars, or some shit like that.

When she was sure they were at a safe distance from the park, she said 'Right. Fancy the Café Musain?'  
'But I thought we were going to find her?'  
'I am! But not immediately…we know she's in the park at the minute anyway!' _Idiot.  
_'Right. Ok.' He paused, then his face lit up again. 'Yes, the Musain, I can tell the boys all about her!'  
_Fanfuckingtastic. _'Yeah… great.'  
Marius talked about her all the way there, barely pausing for breath. In some ways, this was better, as it needed little input from her: a smile here and there, a non-committal noise or a 'Yeah!' every so often. But mostly it just broke her heart; every word, every superlative he used to describe her, every rhetorical question he posed as to her personality hitting her like a dagger in the gut, stabbing her over and over.

_Well. This sucks._

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**:(  
Please review, I love to hear from you! Thanks for being so nice about the last chapter as well, especially since it was so short.  
Also I forgot to mention, I posted a list of who I picture when I'm writing about the characters on my profile - feel free to ignore it but it's there if you're interested :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Second chapter of two today... not sure it counts since it's ten to three in the morning, but HEY I TRIED. I wanted this one as good as I could get it, and boy, is it long!  
**

**I promise I'm not ignoring your lovely messages and reviews, but I am getting pretty tired so I'll reply during the daylight hours :L**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables or Oliver! And I've changed the words to the song a bit. Please don't sue me.**

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If Éponine thought her day couldn't get any worse, she was sorely mistaken. On reaching the café, not only did she have to listen to Marius tell the story again from the beginning - missing out how much fun the lovely picnic they'd been having had been, obviously - but she had to join in this time, maintaining a happy expression the whole time and joining in with the "exciting" parts ('and then I said "have you ever seen anyone so beautiful, Éponine" and SHE SAID NO!' 'I did, I said no!').

She kept her mask of happiness and carefree laughter firmly in place, determined not to show her inner pain to the Amis, or, God forbid, Marius. She'd had years of practise. She was good at hiding pain by now.

It almost slipped whenever she met the eyes of Musichetta or one of the Amis. Damn it, it was that look! That stupid, infuriating look which holds so much emotion, so much 'support', so much_ pity_. That look which whispers 'I'm so sorry' 'are you ok' and worst of all 'I wish I could make all of this go away'. Éponine was strong, able to stand just about anything. Except pity.

She looked around her: Marius wasn't stopping any time soon, he was still describing her eyes in intimate detail. '_How did he even see that?! She was 40 metres away and looking in a different direction!' _The rest were all occupied by listening intently (Jehan, Combeferre, Joly, Musichetta, Sylvie), pretending to (Bahorel, Bossuet, Feuilly), listening and watching with confused and slightly disgusted faces (Gavroche, R, Courfeyrac) or just plain ignoring him (Enjolras).

Then he started telling them how she was going to help him find his girl and it became too much. There was nowhere she could look without meeting eyes with that LOOK, it was surrounding her and she just needed some AIR!

Standing up, she muttered something about her phone, and moved to go behind the bar. A chorus of questions rose up as she did: 'Are you all right, Éponine?' 'Are you OK?' 'Can I have another beer, please? 'Won't you stay to tell them about her hair, Éponine?'. Turning to look behind her, she put on her brightest smile and replied cheerfully 'I'm fine, why wouldn't I be? My phone just needs charging. I'll get you a beer on my way back through, R. And I'm sure you can handle that one without me, Marius.' Then she walked through the door into the back.

* * *

Even in his drunken state, this was hard for Grantaire to watch. Marius was spouting off verses like Jehan, but without any poetic talents. It was pathetic. He didn't even know the girl; he was making half of this stuff up!

He had to hand it to Éponine though; she really was a fucking soldier. Seriously, even staying strong to the point where she would help him _find _this bird, and keep a smile on her face… fucking hell. She had actually almost fooled him: if it hadn't been for the look in her deep brown eyes, he wouldn't have known. But he knew the little firecracker well enough that he could see what she was feeling, no matter what she was trying to show the world. She was broken. She'd been ripped in half. She was getting stabbed in the heart with every word. He knew because he felt that way every time Enjolras dismissed him as a pathetic drunk, or ignored him, or made some scathing comment about how he wasn't passionate about anything. He'd never actually seen the look in his own eyes, of course, but he recognised it immediately.

Then there was the look in the lads' eyes. Fucking hell. It was like a fucking morgue in here. Seriously. He saw Combeferre catch Éponine's eye and have to fight back tears! What did Combeferre have to cry about?! If Éponine had decided to fight on and help the wanker then she needed them to help her do it, not cry for her and throw her some kind of pity party!

He didn't blame her for going into the back. She would need some space. So he stopped Combeferre and Musichetta going to see if she was ok and stopped Gavroche going to ask for a milkshake. He left her a good ten minutes before he went himself.

When he got onto his feet – the world didn't always move this fast did it? – and unsteadily made his way to the door, he heard Musichetta ask where the hell he thought he was going, so he turned to look into what seemed to be her general direction. He grabbed a chair to steady himself, looked her in the eye with a meaningful look and said 'I'm not getting any fucking younger and I want my fucking beer'. Her gaze softened and she nodded to tell him she understood.

Shutting the door behind him, he looked around the little kitchen, confused for a second as to where she'd even gone.

'Pony? It's R.'

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and looked around, opening all the bigger cupboards in case she was hiding. He didn't find her, but he did find what looked like her most prized possessions, including her phone - which was fully charged – several photos, an unmarked CD, and a few books. He picked up one of the photos, a recent one of her and Gavroche, covered in flour and holding trays of muffins in their oven mitt-covered hands and smirked at their unruly curls, their big grins and the sheer joy in their matching brown eyes. _I wish I could help her look that happy again._ He put it back where he found it and shut the cupboard door. If she wanted him to know, she'd have told him and he respected that.

He noticed the heavy door that separated the storeroom from the rest of the room was ajar and slowly walked over. Peeking into the dark room, he saw a tiny figure in between two rows of barrels, her back to the door. She was sat on the floor, leaning against barrels of beer (specifically, Carlsberg. He knew the barrels well, having woken up cuddling them on several occasions.), her legs drawn up to her chest and her head on her knees.

He was just about to shout her name to get her attention when she started to sing quietly.

_As long as he needs me -__  
__and, yes, he DOES need me.__  
__In spite of what you see...__  
__...I'm sure that he needs me._

He knew she'd shit herself if he made a noise, so he leaned against the door frame and listened.

_Who else would love him still__  
__When they've been used so ill?__  
__But, fuck, I always will...__  
__As long as he needs me.__  
__I miss him so much when he is gone, __  
__But when he's near me, I don't let on…_

Grantaire didn't know a voice could hold so much raw emotion, so much feeling.

_The way I feel inside.__  
__The love, I have to hide.__  
__The hell! I've gone my pride!__  
__As long as he needs me._

She stopped for a second and he wondered if she was done, but then she picked it up again. The sniffles and shaking of her shoulders told him that this time, she was definitely crying.

_He doesn't say the things he should.__  
__He doesn't see the things he should.__  
__But all the same, __  
__I'll play this game his way._

Fuck, she was actually a really good singer. Even when she was crying.

_As long as he needs me...__  
__I know where I must be.__  
__I'll cling on steadfastly__  
__As long as he needs me.  
As long as life is long__  
__I'll love him right or wrong,__  
__And somehow, I'll be strong__  
__As long as he needs me.__  
__If you are lonely, then you will know: __  
__When someone needs you,__ y__ou love them so._

He was barely holding back his own tears by this point.

_I won't betray his trust, though people say I must.__  
__I've got to stay true, just__  
__As long as he needs me._

Choking back his emotions with a long swig of beer, he made his way over to her shaking form, sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. He didn't say anything, just planted a kiss in her hair and let her sob.

After a few minutes of heart-wrenching sobbing, she managed to choke out 'E-e-everything's gone to sh-sh-shit, R'  
'I know, Pony, I know'  
'A-and I still LOVE him, y'know!'  
'I know, and I know it sucks'  
'I don't w-w-w-WANT to love him anymore!' At this, she was sobbing again.  
Rubbing soothing circles on her back 'There's nothing I can do to make this better, babe. If you work out how to make it go away, you let me know.'  
She burbled out a weak laugh through her tears 'You fucking suck at comforting'  
'Yeah, I know, sorry.'  
He gave her a minute to compose herself and when she spoke, her voice was stronger, and he could hear the determination in her voice.  
'You're not going to talk me out of fucking helping him'  
'I wouldn't dream of it.'  
'Good.'  
'You might not even find her. This might all be a big, painful, false alarm.'  
'I already know who she is. I just haven't told him yet.'  
_Shit. She's good. _  
'How?'  
'Her name's Cosette, we grew up together in Montfermeil. Ironically, I was really mean to her because she had nothing and I had everything. Her Ma was a whore, so my parents took her on in return for payments, and then treated her like a slave. I was just as bad, I didn't know any better. Anyway, her mother died of AIDS when we were just little kids and that guy turned up the same day, gave my Pa 1500 francs, and took her away. So I replaced her as the servant. Look what's become of us now.'  
'Fuck.'  
'Yep.'

They sat in silence for a second, completely still except for his occasional swig of beer.

'Come on, let's go back' she said as she stood up. 'Can you tell I've been crying?'  
'Pony, I'm drunk and we're in a dark cupboard. I can't tell how many heads you've got.'  
She laughed and held out her hand to help him up.  
'Get up, you idiot.'

They were at the door to the café before they spoke again. Her hand on the door handle, she turned and looked him in the eyes and said 'thanks, R.'  
'Don't even mention it.'

It didn't come close to numbing the pain. Maybe nothing would. But for now, they both knew sitting in a dark cupboard with their best friend was the best option they had.

* * *

**If you haven't heard Samantha Barks' version of this song, youtube it and you're welcome.**

**It was fun writing as Grantaire, he's a cutie. Let me know if you liked it, or disliked it or just plain hated it and want me to sit in the corner of shame to think about my actions. I love hearing from you anyway.**

**Feel free to ask any questions you have, by the way guys. I won't give out spoilers (sorry weeeell) but I'll do my best to answer them!**

**ANYWAY, I need sleep. Thanks for reading, especially if you've read this whole A/N because that's just nice. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**It's been pouring down with rain all day here, pretty appropriately, so there'll be another chapter later - can't let inspiring weather go to waste!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Les Miserables the ending would have been much happier**

* * *

She hated herself sometimes. Like, actually wanted to scream at herself.

She'd let it all get to her: Marius had been dropping a series of '_really subtle'_ hints about her going to find Cosette so she went, partly to get out of the café, partly to please Marius, and partly to shut him up.

It wasn't even hard. The funny thing about knowing a fair amount of dodgy people is that you can find out information about someone very quickly – of course, she'd had to ask the right people, who she didn't think would tell her father she was asking. In any case, by 8pm she knew the girl's full name was Cosette Fauchelevent and she lived with her father on Rue Plumet. Other than this, people didn't seem to know much; they kept themselves to themselves, apparently.

She almost laughed at the weather perfectly reflecting her feelings as it started to pour with rain when she got back to the café and relayed what she knew to Marius. His reaction made it almost worth it: he had freaked out and hugged her, shouting 'YOU'RE AMAZING, 'PONINE, WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU?!' (Grantaire's mutter of 'Your own dirty work, probably' earned him a glare. She was too happy that her nickname was back to care about much else at that moment.)

Suddenly, his shouting changed from singing Éponine's praises to 'WE'VE GOT TO GO NOW LET'S GO WE CAN WALK IT'S NOT FAR' and this time, les Amis weren't keeping quiet.  
'Have you seen the weather?' (Feuilly)  
'Don't be stupid Marius' (Courfeyrac)  
'NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR LONELY SOUL' (Enjolras)  
'At least wait until it stops raining' (Combeferre)  
'You're joking, right?' (Bossuet)  
Marius looked a bit put out. 'You're not being very supportive here, guys'  
Bahorel started shouting about Éponine's support and how he didn't appreciate it, so Joly cut him off before he could say too much. Keeping his tone as level as he could, he reasoned 'all we're saying is: Éponine's in a t-shirt. She'll catch her death.'  
'She never gets ill, she'll be fine!' _I never get ill? What?  
_Courfeyrac exclaimed, incredulous, 'She's been coughing like a chain-smoker for weeks! You're with her the most, how have you missed this?!'  
'Everyone gets coughs!' And then they were arguing again. Bahorel, always up for a fight, was being held in his seat by Combeferre, despite the furious looks on both their faces. The rest were just shouting over each other.

Jehan smiled sympathetically at her and offered her a can of Diet Coke, which she took with a grateful smile. Their conversation was covered by the loud arguments as Jehan just said 'You're going to go, aren't you?'  
'Yep.'  
'In this rain?'  
'I like the rain! Also, I honestly just want this whole thing over with and he's not going to stop talking about her until I take him there, is he?'  
'Fair point. Are you all right? Generally, I mean, about the whole thing?'  
'No. But I will be.'  
He took her hand and squeezed it. 'There's something quite poetic about you doing this in the rain.'  
'I thought that! What do you call that again?'  
'Pathetic fallacy.'  
'Hmm. Thanks. Speaking of pathetic…' she let go of Jehan's hand and stood on a chair '…WILL YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP!?'

Unsurprisingly, they did.

'I AM A GROWN WOMAN WHO IS PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF GOING OUT IN THE RAIN. THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONCERN BUT I WILL TAKE MARIUS TO THE RUE PLUMET AND YOU WILL ALL STOP ARGUING ABOUT IT. AND BAHOREL, IF YOU EVER TRY AND FIGHT MY BATTLES AGAIN**, I** WILL FIGHT **YOU** AND YOU WILL **LOSE**.' She looked at them all individually, with her fiercest glare on her face. She nearly fell off her perch when she reached Enjolras and he was _smirking_. Smirking! Like, almost a smile! 'Enjolras?'  
'Sorry, just imagining you fighting Bahorel.' _Really? YOU were picturing that, of all people? Holy shit, have you developed a sense of humour? Who are you and what have you done with Enjolras?!  
_'Oh.'  
'Also, you realise this whole problem is easily solved if Marius just drives to the Rue Plumet.' _Oh. Yeah. That would actually solve the whole thing.  
_Marius was off again. 'Enjolras, that's genius! I knew I would be able to count on you to be the smartest! I should have thought of it myself, but my world has been changed in a burst of light and what was right seems wrong and –'  
'Marius, I really don't care.'  
'Oh. Excellent. Right, let's go Éponine.'

* * *

The daggers were stabbing her again as he talked all the way there. She'd never felt so smothered in a Ford Fiesta, the air was full of his stupid phrases 'She's burst into my life like the music of angels, the light of the Sun!' 'I feel like something is over and something has scarcely begun!' 'I'm at one with the Gods and heaven is near!'

They pulled into the Rue Plumet and he slowed down so she could see the house numbers.

'Stop here.'

They were there. 55 Rue Plumet.

'Is this it?' He searched her face, his expression one of delight and slight trepidation. Marius parked the car and took the keys out, but didn't move.  
_This better not have been for nothing. _'You not going to go and see her?'  
'Yes. Yes I am, of course… But, 'Ponine…' Her heart jumped at his use of her pet name. '…what if she doesn't like me.'  
_I can't believe I'm doing this '_Marius, she'll love you. It's impossible not to. You're handsome and kind and smart and funny and… if she doesn't, you're better without her, trust me.' _If he doesn't notice your feelings from that, he's even denser than you thought. _  
'You're right of course, you always are! You always know just what to say, Éponine.' Her heart dropped like a stone again. Of course he hadn't noticed. He never did. He never would.  
She just replied softly and sadly, 'go get her, Tiger.' And then he was gone and she was left in the car on her own.


	15. Chapter 15

**Second chapter of the day! Something very inspiring about rain.**

**Trigger warning: More violence, I'm afraid. Less language than usual, though, so... swings and roundabouts.**

**Disclaimer: Les Mis was never mine to lose... why regret what could not be?**

* * *

She tried to stay put and give them privacy. She honestly tried. She knew Marius would be humiliated if it didn't work out and the last thing he would want would be an audience but…

That argument kept her in the car for a couple of minutes – she turned on the radio, flicking between the channels, pretending to listen to the songs on each… _Who am I kidding I am not that good a person._ She jumped out the car and hid behind the wall of the house next door, from where she could see Marius and Cosette talking through a large iron gate, covered by a stone arch which was keeping them out of the rain. Cosette had changed out of her sundress into a pair of hot pink Minnie Mouse pyjamas. _Jesus, does she wear anything that isn't pink?_

'My name is Marius Pontmercy'  
'Mine's Cosette'  
'_Cosette…. _I… I don't know what to say!'  
'Me neither!'  
'I'm lost… it's like a dream'  
'I've never felt so awake!'  
'God, I'm not freaking you out am I? I just felt like we had this connection –'  
'No! I felt it too! I… I think I'll always feel it, even if you leave and never come back!'  
'Why would I leave and never come back?'  
'Well… you might not like me now you've met me…'  
'Cosette, a single look and I knew I love you'  
'I knew it too!'  
'You… you love me too?!'  
'Yes! Oh, I'll let you through this silly gate so we can talk properly!'

Éponine had had enough. Her heart couldn't stand much more: it was clear Marius had found his love. He would never feel the same way as her. She had really lost him. _'You can't lose someone if they were never yours'_ she reminded herself as she took a long, final look at them before turning away, fully intending to go back to her alleyway and cry herself to sleep. _'Why regret what couldn't be?'_

It was then she saw movements in the garden of the house opposite. Movements which made her very uneasy. Movements which told her that someone didn't want to be seen.

Ducking down behind cars to stay out of sight, she made her way across the street and hid in the shadows. A quick look back at the gate of number 55 told her that Cosette was in the process of unlocking it.

Leaning flat against the wall, Éponine froze as the harsh, raspy whisper of her father reached her ears over the sound of the rain hitting the pavement. 'Right, lads. This bloke 'ere, he nicked Cosette from me an' the missus a few years back – I'm collectin' my debts. He's got summat to hide an' I wanna know what.'  
'Why should I care what we're doin'? I just want my share!' That high-pitched whine had to be Claquesous, a petty thief with a suspicious talent for escaping custody.  
A loud, deep, grunting roar came next, ('I WANNA SMASH 'IM') followed by shushing. '_Oh fucking hell,' _she thought_, 'He's brought Gueulemer. He's ready for a fight.'  
_She listened carefully for other voices: the gang members her father had brought with him would give an indication as to his intentions. Other than Claquesous, her father and Gueulemer, she heard only the cunning, measured tones of Brujon and the low mumbles of Babet, suggesting he was planning to trash the place, roughing the occupants up and taking what he wanted. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief – no sign of Montparnasse, so there was no killing planned for the night. This was good news and bad: good for obvious reasons, but it also meant there was no-one there she had a chance of reasoning with.

Cosette had the gate open. The men were still planning. This was her chance.

She gathered all her courage and walked into the garden of 54 Rue Plumet, blocking the exit for the five thugs.  
'Who's this hussy?'  
'It's ya brat Éponine, don't you know ya own kid?'  
'WHY YOU HERE ÉPONINE?'  
'I thought you said she ran away, Thénardier?'  
Her father's piggy little eyes were full of anger, amusement and danger, and remained fixed on hers. 'I did… Well, well, well, ya want back in, do ya, ya ungrateful little shit?'  
She kept her gaze fierce and her voice determined. 'I'd rather be mauled by rabid badgers.'  
'I'd ratha just get ya myself, if it's all the same.'  
'I'll 'ave the badgers, actually; I know where ya put ya hands.' She was surprised how quickly her accent came back – she hadn't had this broad an accent in almost a year, she'd got rid of it when she met Marius.  
He had snarled, then walked towards her, menacingly. 'Out o' the way, I'll deal with ya later, I'm on a job.'  
_Oh no you don't. _She stood her ground. 'I'm goin' nowhere, and neitha're you.'  
'An' 'ow are ya plannin' on stoppin' us?'  
'I'll scream.'  
There was a slightly maniacal laugh from each of the men. 'THAT NOT HELP' guffawed Gueulemer stupidly.  
She smirked. 'Think it might, actually. Posh bit o' town like this, big houses like the ol' man and 'is daughter's… someone'll hear. Police'll not be far away.'  
The surprise at her reasoning quickly turned to anger on the faces of the four gang members with functioning brains, but the huge, brutish giant Gueulemer was still catching up. She could almost see the steam coming out of his ears as he desperately tried to form a thought.  
Her smirk grew as her father warned 'One scream and ya'll regret it for a year.'  
And then it happened: Gueulemer caught up. With a roar, he barrelled towards her, his huge, lolloping frame reminding her of a charging bull.

This was the moment. She screamed at the top of her lungs, her eyes screwed up and her mouth open wide.

She heard Marius shout 'RUN COSETTE!' and the slamming of the gate across the road, and saw the three more cowardly of the gang run away as fast as their legs would carry them. Her father just grabbed a fistful of her hair and roughly pulled her to him, whispering 'I'll be back and ya'll rue the day ya were born.' He pushed her harshly away, into the hard stone wall, which she hit hard at the base She scrambled to her feet, just in time to hear her father say 'Get 'er legs, Gueul', I don't want 'er goin' nowhere.'

She couldn't get away in time. She felt his huge, beefy hands on her right leg, and then there was only a sickening crack and blinding pain. Éponine crumpled to the floor with a small scream of pain. The next few minutes consisted of nothing but heavy blows all over her body: her stomach, her face (another sickening crack here which might have been her nose), her ribs (more cracks), her leg again. A particularly nasty kick to the ear sent a sharp pain right through her head.

Eventually, she heard a hissed 'run!' and it stopped.

Unable to move for pain, she strained her ears to listen for any sign of Marius. She tried to croak out his name when she heard the creak of the gate across the road, but her mouth was full of blood and she barely heard it herself.

And then she heard his car start. Her right eye opened wide, her left straining to do the same under a sluggish and heavy eyelid. _No, don't leave! _She tried to stand up, ignoring the screaming pain in her head and her arms and her ribs, but her leg buckled underneath her and she crashed to the floor. Spitting out the blood from her mouth she shouted 'MARIUS!'

But it was too late.

She heard him drive away. He was gone.

She slowly dragged her arm to her pocket, only to find it empty. _Brilliant. I've left my phone on the seat._

More bruised and battered than ever before, unable to move, unable to get help and with nobody to protect her, Éponine was completely helpless.

Nobody even knew where she was. There was literally nothing she could do.

She was all on her own in the pouring rain.

* * *

**Guys, I'm going to try and get another chapter done tonight because**** I'm going away for a few days: My family's having to move to a different part of the country (not in an escaping from Javert way, just my Dad's got a new job) so I'm going down south for a few days with my Mam to look for houses. I'm taking my laptop with me and I'll try and get stuff posted but I'm not sure I'll have internet or much time, so it might be a few days before the next update. I'll do my best to get the next chapter up, but I can't promise since it's twenty to one in the morning already... I'm really not looking forward to this trip, no internet in a shit place is pretty much my nightmare, but I've not really got much choice, so sorry!**

**In case I don't get another one up, thank you for reading, and thank you so much for your kind messages and reviews and favourites and AHHH JUST THANK YOU and I'll be back on as soon as I can!**

**Keep reviewing, you gorgeous popsicles!**


	16. Chapter 16

**I DID IT! I apologise in advance for any mistakes but it's three in the morning and my need to sleep is overtaking my desire to double-check and edit more, so if you find anything let me know, and I'll fix it when I can**.

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Les Mis, but I wish I did.**

* * *

Enjolras was the last one in the café, as usual. Musichetta had left him to lock up again, leaving hand in hand with Bossuet less than five minutes ago. He could normally keep working for at least another hour after everybody left, but not tonight.

Something wasn't sitting right with him and he couldn't concentrate. First of all, he kept picturing a fight between Éponine and Bahorel, which he couldn't imagine being anything but hilarious. The scene in his mind was different each time, but Éponine was always the victor in the end, just like it would likely happen in real life.

Her eyes had been fiery again when she's been shouting at them. She really had to stop doing that.

Then again, he'd rather she had fire-eyes all the time than another second with the broken, hollow look they'd held when Pontmercy was spouting his rubbish. Even he, the so-called 'marble man' had seen that look and wanted to shake Pontmercy hard. God only knew what someone who actually cared about other people's love-life related feelings, like Courfeyrac, had thought.

Not that he was unfeeling, don't get him wrong. He just didn't want to listen to that stuff. He hadn't been lying to Pontmercy: he really didn't care. As long as he didn't have to see that look in Éponine's eyes again. Or anyone's, for that matter. He was sure he would be equally uncomfortable if anyone looked that way. It wasn't that she was _special_ or anything. Well, he supposed she was special in a lot of ways, but not in_ that _way, that would be ridiculous to even suggest –

His inner monologue was cut off by Marius' entrance. Normally, he wouldn't even have looked up, but Pontmercy immediately asked 'Is Éponine here?'  
_Oh good Lord was I talking out loud? _'No, why should she be? She left with you.'  
'Yeah…' _Thank God, it can't have been out loud, he'd have taken the mickey by now. _He let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.  
'The thing is, Enjolras, I've been at Cosette's and I want to tell her all about it… Oh Enjolras it was amazing, she loves me too, she really does, and I feel as though I did not live until today and I could never live if we were parted and –' _Oh good. Here he goes again. Yes, keep talking. I'm really interested. Pink pyjamas you say? How fascinating. _'-and then I heard a scream and sent her inside before driving away.'  
'So surely, Éponine was in your car?'  
'What? Oh… no, she'd gone.'  
'Then it might have been her scream?'  
'Well, I suppose so. But, that's not like Éponine. She's tough'  
'Exactly, so a scream from HER indicates very serious trouble'  
'Yes. Precisely. I had to make sure Cosette was safe.' _OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME, PONTMERCY  
_'PONTMERCY, DID YOU THINK OF SOMEONE OTHER THAN YOURSELF FOR HALF A SECOND TODAY?'  
'Enjolras, why are you angry?'  
'HAVE YOU AT LEAST _CALLED _ÉPONINE?!'  
'Her phone's in my car, she left it. What's your problem?'  
'YOU ARE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!'

Marius's face was a picture: Enjolras just said fuck! He was just as surprised at himself actually, firstly that he was this bothered by the situation, secondly that Pontmercy had been so self-centred, thirdly that he had said fuck, and finally that he was grabbing his car keys and abandoning his books.

'What number Rue Plumet does Cosette live at?'  
'55 but why are YOU visiting my girlfriend at this hour?!'  
_I'm not even dignifying that with an answer. _'Just lock up before you leave, Pontmercy.'

And then he was running down the stairs and out the door into the rain, straight to his car.

* * *

It had taken a while and been excruciatingly painful, but she was standing. Well, she was leaning heavily against the wall… but upright nonetheless.

The vulnerability of her position had hit her like a ton of bricks and she was damned if she was waiting for the father to come back and finish her off. So she stood. It was the most pain she had ever endured, but she had done it.

And then slowly, but surely, she made her way along the soaking wet wall and out of the garden, and down the Rue Plumet. She didn't even know where she was going, just that it was as far from 54 Rue Plumet as she could physically get.

She had expected to see the empty space where Marius' car had been, but it didn't make it hurt any less when she saw it, or make her feel any less abandoned. The pain and the loneliness welled up inside her again and she was going to cry and nothing hurts sore ribs like crying, so she sang instead. It hurt like hell, but if it kept her walking, it was worth it.

_And now I'm all alone again,  
Nowhere to turn, no-one to go to.  
Without a home, without a friend, without a face to say hello to.  
And now the night is near  
Now I can make believe he's here._

Because despite the fact that this whole mess was mostly directly his fault and the rest of the blame lay with her for defending him, she still wanted Marius there. She always wanted Marius there.

_Sometimes I walk alone at night when everybody else is sleeping  
I think of him and then I'm happy with the company I'm keeping  
The city goes to bed: now I can live inside my head_

She stopped singing for a second as she turned the corner and nearly fell over. This was clearly all that was keeping her upright. _Keep going, Thénardier. I don't care what you sing about, just sing._

So she sang about how she was feeling. About Marius. About everything.

And she kept walking.

* * *

He stopped his car outside 55 Rue Plumet and jumped out, not bothering to lock it. He turned in a circle, looking all around for some sign of the tiny girl with the big, expressive eyes.

There was nothing. He stood in the rain, his curls flat against his head and dripping into his eyes; his blue button-down shirt soaked through and sticking to him.

_Enjolras you are the dumbest guy in the world. You're dumber than Pontmercy. He knew that Éponine would have taken care of herself, but you had to play the hero and go and look for her. For God's sake, how many times have you heard her insist that she knows her way around and yet STILL – _

His inner monologue was cut off for the second time that night. But this time, it was something far better than an entering Pontmercy.

_On my own  
Pretending he's beside me  
All alone  
I'll walk with him 'till morning_

It was her. Where was she?

_Without him, I feel his arms around me  
And when I lose my way I close my eyes…_

_GOD_, she had a beautiful voice.

…_and he has found me._

Enjolras snapped back to reality. _Not yet I haven't, but I will._

He started walking, blindly following the angelic voice that filled his head. He barely noticed the rain. _I just need to find you._

* * *

It was getting harder and harder to keep walking, but she was almost around the second corner, quite a way from Rue Plumet. She had to keep going. What else could she sing about? _The rain. You love the rain, walking along the river in it._

_In the rain  
the pavement shines like silver  
All the lights are misty in the river  
In the darkness  
the trees are full of starlight  
and all I see is him and me forever and forever!_

But that's not what she saw. She saw a battered, skinny little corpse, trudging her way round the corner to Rue de la Quintinie. She felt anger join the pain and heartbreak in the pit of her stomach.

_And I know it's only in my mind  
That I'm talking to myself, and not to him._

But she could always _hope!_

_And although, I know that he is BLIND  
STILL I say: there's a way for us._

Her ribs were hurting again. _Don't you dare cry!_

_I love him, but when the night is over  
he is gone: the river's just a river.  
Without him, the world around me changes  
the trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers!_

_I love him, but every day I'm learning  
All my life, I've only been pretending!_

The anger and the frustration and the hurt were building again. Pretending was right: what did she have to show for 19 years of fighting endlessly to exist?!

_Without me, his world will go on turning  
A world that's full of happiness that I have NEVER KNOWN!_

With the big, emotion-draining power note, her strength ran out and she broke down in tears, despite the screams of pain from her ribs and the continuing agony of her leg and her head and her face. She was going down in a second, she knew it.

She'd gotten as far as she could.

* * *

_A world that's full of happiness that I have NEVER KNOWN!_

As she belted out a pitch-perfect note that expressed more emotions than he'd felt his whole life, he saw her.

And then her saw her shoulders shake.

And then he saw her crumple to the floor.

And then he began to run like his life depended on it. Through the rushing in his ears of the wind and the rain, he heard her finish her song, so fragile and so broken, but so determined that he felt it in his very soul.

_I love him.  
I LOVE HIM.  
__**I LOVE HIM.  
**__But only…_

He was almost there.

_On  
my  
own..._

He was there. He knelt down on the soaked pavement by her head, not giving a s_hit _about the pavement and his already soaked chinos. Very gently, he picked her head off the pavement and turned it to face him, placing it in his lap.

_Fucking hell._

Her eyes were both closed, but the left one was so swollen it looked like it might never open again. Her face was covered in blood, the source of which was either the cut above her eye, or her clearly broken nose.

'Shit, Éponine? Éponine, can you hear me?' he asked desperately. Her right eyelid quivered. 'Éponine, you're safe, it's Enjolras, can you hear me?' To his intense relief, her eye fluttered open, filling with confusion and surprise as it met his. She opened her mouth to speak, dribbling blood and water down onto his legs, but only managed a raspy whisper of 'E-Enjolras?'

The bewildered disbelief in her voice caused the voice of his usual disciplined, marble personality to snarkily whisper in his ear _'of course she's not expecting you, you aren't even friends. She'd rather it was anyone but you.' _But he ignored it. Because it didn't matter who she wanted there, he was the one who had come, and she needed his help.

'I'm going to pick you up, Éponine; I'll carry you to my car. Is that alright?' He took the infinitesimal movement of her head as a yes, because frankly, he was going to do it anyway, and as gently as he possibly could, placed her arm over his shoulder and picked her up. The motion caused her to cry out in pain and the sound cut right through him. 'I'm sorry, Éponine, I'm so sorry.'

Keeping his precious cargo as level as possible, he made his way to the car. Her eye was shut again, but she was awake, and he found the anger building inside him. _Who could do this to a tiny, funny, sparky little girl like Éponine? To anyone, for that matter?! How can such soulless, evil monsters be allowed to roam the Earth?'_

He was at the car. He placed her gently on the passenger seat, grabbing a few shirts and sweaters from the boot once she was in. He bunched up one and wedged it between her head and the door as a pillow, then placed the rest over her like a blanket to try and keep her warm, before fastening her seatbelt. He needed to get her dried off and some medical attention as soon as possible. 'I'm going to take you to hospital, all right, Éponine?'

Suddenly her eye snapped open and she tried to bolt upright, only succeeding in a slight twitch then falling back into the seat. 'NO!' she croaked out.  
'No? Why not? Éponine, you need a doctor, fast.'  
'Not hospital... bad place... records.' He didn't pretend for a second to understand any of that but he didn't want her any more distressed than necessary so he said 'Fine, I'll take you to Joly. Is that allowed?'  
'Yes'  
'Right, fine.' He darted around the car and jumped into the driver's seat, setting off for Joly's apartment like a man possessed.

* * *

Courfeyrac was used to strange callers in the night: it came with the territory when he and Grantaire shared an apartment. Poor Joly put up with a lot. But one thing he never expected to open the door to at eleven at night was a dripping wet Enjolras holding a similarly soaked, battered, unconscious Éponine in his arms, a look of pure desperation on his face.

'JOLY!'

* * *

**I hope the switching perspectives aren't too confusing. ****Please let me know what you think, I'll get back to you as soon as I can! :D**

**the A/N at the end of the last chapter is for realsies now, so I might not be back for a few days.**

**I LOVE YOU ALL**


	17. Chapter 17

**Guess who's back...!**

**Thanks so much for sticking with me while I've been away guys, sorry for leaving you with a cliffy at the end there haha!**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned Les Miserables, I'd pay Samantha Barks and Aaron Tveit to just be Eponine and Enjolras all the time. In every production. Especially the one that would happen outside my house. Then we could get a Chinese and watch Singing in the Rain. Unfortunately, I don't, so that ain't happening.**

* * *

Joly was looking under his desk for his pen when Courfeyrac shouted his name.

'JOLY!'

The shock caused him to jump up suddenly and as a result he banged his head on the desk, knocking his glasses off. '_SHITSHITSHIT OW! That's definitely going to cause a bump - I might have a concussion or amnesia or a brain haemorrhage! I need to go for a scan as soon as possible, Courf'll have to drive me. Wait… Courf wanted something…' _he thought to himself, as he cautiously reversed out from under the desk, and then placed his black rectangular-framed glasses back onto his nose.

He walked out of his room, saying 'Courf I've got a brain inj- SHIT.' He'd seen their unexpected guests, sending all his fears about brain haemorrhages straight out of his mind: Éponine was more in need than him right then. 'Lay her flat on the table, I'll get my bag.' _It's not ideal… I haven't sterilised that table in at least half an hour, but it's going to have to do_.  
Courfeyrac jumped into action, saying 'It's ok, I'll get it, and you just… just help her Joly. Please.' The last word came out as a pleading whisper, filled with worry and helplessness and guilt for not protecting her.

Joly crossed the living room and cleared the large kitchen table of the few things left on it, before helping Enjolras slowly lay the unconscious Éponine onto the top. He grabbed a blanket from the sofa to use as a pillow. After spreading alcohol gel from his pocket onto his hands, he handed the bottle to Enjolras so he could do the same. He stood at Éponine's side, looking up and down her unconscious form, and all other thoughts cleared his mind as he went into what the lads called his 'doctor mode', where the only things he notices are the medical needs of his patient and how he can help them.

'How long has she been unconscious?' he asked as he checked her airways were clear.  
'It must be about five minutes now… I… I found her up by Rue Plumet and… and she was awake when I put her in the car, but she was gone by… by the time I got here. Is… is she going to be ok Joly?' Enjolras could barely speak for worry; Joly had never seen him so freaked out about something. Before he could answer, Courfeyrac returned to the living room with Joly's large black bag of medical supplies and his eyes met the young doctor's. Despite all his cheerful silliness, Courfeyrac was a very sensitive person, who knew exactly what the look in Joly's eyes meant: he really didn't know whether Éponine was going to be ok. 'Enjolras, can you help Joly with Éponine, I'll go and get Gavroche, he should be here.'  
Joly turned to Enjolras. '…it's too early to say. I'd wake her up but she's going to want to be unconscious while I sort out some of these bones. Right, hand me my stethoscope.'

He checked her heartbeat: a little fast for his liking, but there wasn't much he could do for now. Her breathing was also shallow and irregular… he needed to act fast.

He started at her head. There was a fairly deep cut above her eyebrow that was going to need stitches to stem the bleeding. Her left eye was swollen shut but that was a lower priority, it would be uncomfortable but not life-threatening: the same went for that split lip. Her nose was clearly broken; he would strap that up later.

Moving down her body, he identified a severely dislocated shoulder, and a quick squeeze of her sides told him several of her ribs were cracked, with two of them possibly fractured. The uncomfortable angle of her right leg told him that it was definitely broken and needed strapping up.

'I need to put her shoulder back in but I'll check her abdomen before I do too much. Enjolras, get the scissors and help me cut this t-shirt off.'  
Enjolras froze. Panic rose in the eyes of the handsome leader.  
_REALLY, MATE?!_ 'ENJOLRAS, this is not the time for modesty, she's in danger! Get the scissors!'  
He hesitated, but did as he was told. Joly held the sopping fabric tight for him to cut, barely able to conceal his smirk, despite the seriousness of the situation. _Not scared of women my arse. He's lucky it's just me in here - Grantaire or Courfeyrac would have eaten him alive._

As he cast aside the remnants of her t-shirt, Joly grimaced at the state of Éponine's body. Her chest and abdomen were severely bruised, with her stomach in particular covered in angry red, black and blue marks. It would be nothing short of a miracle if there was no internal bleeding, but if it was really severe it would have become more obvious by now. _That'll be the decider in how serious this really is. I suppose we'll find out soon enough._ 'Ok… shoulder. Enjolras I need you to hold her here' he gestured to an area on his back 'and here. Really hold it firm and I'll push her shoulder back in… this is going to hurt her a lot, so she might wake up - be prepared for that.'  
Enjolras looked terrified. 'Can't you give her some pain relief?'  
'I've only got a limited supply and I don't want to mask any symptoms so she can give us a full picture when she's awake… later, I will. I promise.'  
Apparently satisfied, the taller, curly-haired man pushed back his wet sleeves and got into position as Joly had showed him. The young doctor met his eyes then looked back at Éponine's shoulder. 'Three, two, one…' CRACK.

* * *

'AHHHHHHH!'

Éponine woke up with a scream of agony and immediately tried to sit up, but felt strong hands push her gently down. She opened her eye to find a dishevelled Enjolras shushing her and stroking her hair. _What's happening!? Where the hell am I?! Why is Enjolras here and why does he look so worried? Am I going to die?!' _She couldn't see him, but she heard Joly's voice say 'Éponine, you're all right, it's Joly. I'm going to help you, you're safe.' Tears of pain ran silently from her eyes, blurring her vision, but she kept her gaze locked on Enjolras. She couldn't have told you why if her life depended on it, but for some strange reason, in all her pain and confusion it was the only thing that made sense.

* * *

The ear-splitting scream had roused Grantaire from his deep sleep, face-down on his bed. As the grogginess cleared, he became more aware of the commotion outside his bedroom door, and he made his way wearily to investigate.

He wasn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't Joly strapping up the leg of a drenched, shirtless Éponine while a soaking wet Enjolras stood by her head comforting her and gently wiping blood from her battered face with a sponge.

A flash of intense jealousy went through him at the close attention his best friend was receiving from the dishevelled –_ but still bloody SEXY, how does he even DO that? –_ Enjolras but it was gone as quickly as it arrived when he realised the state Éponine was in.

'JESUS, Éponine! What the hell happened, are you ok?!' He hurried across the room to her side, Enjolras moving out the way so they could see each other clearly. _Fucking hell, how did she get like this?! _  
'R…you're here' she smiled warmly, then started to cry, her face screwed up in pain. _Shit, if Pony's crying… it's bad. Hell, it was already bad, looking at her face. _  
'Try and stay calm, Ép, crying will be very sore on your ribs' Joly advised  
He took her hand. 'Of course I'm here, Pony, I'll always be here… what the fuck happened?'  
'I…I had to p-protect him. Y-you understand, R-R-Romeo.' _Oh Jesus, what did Marius do?_

Joly looked up from her leg with an apologetic look on his face. 'Enjolras, give me a hand a second? This part will be the most painful, I'm really sorry… try not to talk.' Éponine nodded weakly. Joly and Grantaire made eye contact for a second, from which Grantaire understood it would be best to distract her.  
'I told you not to call me that' he teased, gently. 'The other guys'll get jealous.' She closed her eye and gave a small smile, then bit her lip and grimaced as Enjolras lifted her leg and Joly put the final, tight layer of bandage around it.  
'Anyway, Éponine, after this afternoon I had a… what's it called? Erm... oh, an epiphany! I had an epiphany. So Romeo falls in love with Juliet, yeah? BUT, at the start of the play, he's infatuated with this Rosaline, and it feels just as real at the time, but it's not. Maybe, and don't hit me, because it's just maybe… maybe Marius was your Rosaline. Maybe you're still waiting for your Juliet.' He looked over at Enjolras and Joly: Joly was still concentrating, but Enjolras was looking right at him with a slightly impressed expression on his face. Grantaire's heart leapt and his stomach flipped, an uncomfortable side effect of the extreme joy he felt. Maybe his Juliet hadn't noticed him at first sight at a party, but after several years, as a result of something clever he'd said as they comforted and treated a beaten-up young woman on his kitchen table.

It would be unorthodox, to say the least, but Grantaire would take it. He didn't care how it happened. He just cared that it would.

It had to eventually, didn't it?

* * *

**I continue to be so overwhelmed by the response this has received from you guys - I didn't even expect readers let alone so many views and visitors and followers and reviews - you lovely people who review every chapter are just... I can't even express how much I appreciate it. Thank you, all of you.**

**Any and all feedback or questions are so, so welcome, so please feel free to leave a review! You don't have to, obviously, but thank you in advance if you do.**

**I have more chapters than this - despite my lack of internet for posting I was writing in all my (limited) spare time... who knew looking for houses was so time-consuming?! - but I'm not happy with the next one yet, I'm between two options and I want to get it right, since you've all been so nice. It should be tomorrow that I post it, and hopefully I'll be back to updating lots again, so get ready for a chapter spam or two :P**

**THIS HAS BECOME A VERY LONG A/N AND I'M SORRY, I WON'T DO IT AGAIN**


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry, I know I said a day... my big brothers came home and I never see them so we went out. Also sorry because you won't even a little bit be interested in this :L**

**Anyhoooo there'll be another one today, I _think_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables. If I did, I definitely could have afforded Vidcon.**

* * *

Around an hour later, Joly had finished treating Éponine, and given her a small amount of powerful pain relief and a sedative. This had been no easy task, as her repeated protestations of 'I'm fine, honestly! It doesn't even hurt that badly anymore, I'll be able to stand and everything. I'll just go home, you've all been way too kind already, I'll get out of your hair…', which were accompanied by attempts to stand up, meant that administering the injections was much harder than expected. Enjolras, Grantaire and Joly had all told her not to be so stupid, she had to stay, but to no avail. After a while, Combeferre - who had been brought to the apartment by Courfeyrac, along with Gavroche - had been uncharacteristically firm with her when insisting she stayed exactly where she was; he had given all of them a bit of a shock, most of all Éponine, who fell immediately silent and accepted the sedative moments afterwards without protest.

The five Amis and Gavroche were all sat in different places around the room as Éponine lay on the kitchen table asleep, wrapped in several blankets to keep her warm and dry.

Courfeyrac spoke first. 'Well, she can't stay on this table all night, she needs a proper bed.'  
'Should we be moving her?' Combeferre asked Joly  
'I'm pretty confident there's no severe internal bleeding but I don't want her going far, I want to watch her. She's not out of the woods yet' the young doctor replied, wiping his glasses on his shirt.  
'She can have my bed' announced Grantaire, to a chorus of five 'NO!'s.  
'Why not!?'  
'When was the last time you cleaned your room?!' asked Joly  
'Never mind that, when was the last time you even changed the sheets?' laughed Courfeyrac.  
Joly added with thinly veiled disgust, 'the smell in there is pungent enough to wake her up, even with the sedative I gave her.'  
'All right, I get it, not my room… what about Courfeyrac's?'  
'Is that a good idea? Knowing what he gets up to in there, we don't want to add 'accidental syphilis infection' to her list of ailments.' This addition from Enjolras caused a few titters of laughter from around the room.  
'What's that mean? What's syfis? 'Ow would Ép get it off Courf's bed? ' Gavroche piped up. The men all looked at each other uncomfortably for a second or two before Joly said 'she can have my bed; it'll at least be clean. I'll stay up and make sure she's all right as well.'  
'No, Joly, you've done so much already, you must be half dead' reasoned Combeferre. 'I'll stay up. I've got enough medical knowledge to be able to see to any basic needs, and I can wake you if she looks really bad.'  
'I won't sleep anyway, so you have my bed, Jol' added Courfeyrac.  
'I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm stayin' with Ép.' Gavroche declared, arms folded and a remarkably Éponine-like glare daring them all to contradict him.  
'Of course you can stay, little man. Your airbed's in my room, I'll pump it up for you.' Courfeyrac soothed him, ruffling the little boy's hair.  
'Can I be in with Ép?'  
Gavroche looked at Combeferre, who said 'there's not really enough room, but I promise I'll wake you if anything happens, ok?'  
He frowned, but nodded. 'If ya swear.'  
'On my life.'  
'Alright then.' He and Courfeyrac left the room to pump up the airbed.

Combeferre looked at Enjolras and asked 'what will you do? Go home?'

He'd thought about it. He'd really done everything he could to help, and there were enough people here now to be sure she was completely safe – better people than him really, who were closer to Éponine and more qualified. His head was telling him to go home and rest, get a shower and a change of clothes.

But he just couldn't. After everything that had happened that night, he had to be sure she was all right.

'No, I'll stay. I can sit with Courfeyrac.'  
'You're just as wet and cold as Éponine, you need to get warm and dry or I'll be treating you, as well.' Joly pointed out.

He looked down at his damp, blood-stained clothes and goose-pimples on his arms and decided it was a fair point. He did need a change of clothes. 'I'll go home for a quick shower and change, and then I'll come back. We'd best get her changed and moved, by the way.'  
'Oh! Yes of course.' Joly exclaimed. 'I almost forgot, that's terrible.'  
'I'll grab some clothes for her' Grantaire muttered, before leaving to do so. On his return, the four men looked at each other before Combeferre asked awkwardly 'What's the best way of doing this?'  
Joly said 'I'll do it; I've seen… it before. I'm a doctor. Professional and… stuff. Combeferre, could you give me a hand?'

Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief. For a horrible second there he had thought he was going to see a fair amount more of Éponine than he planned on that night (_even more_ than he had already). Grantaire handed over the clothes and then the pair sat on the sofa which faced away from the kitchen while Éponine's clothes were changed.

Once she was in clean, dry clothing (well, as clean as Grantaire's clothes ever got), it was time to move her. There was the beginning of a discussion about who would hold what but Enjolras was getting bored, frankly, and Éponine had been on the table for long enough, in his opinion. So he walked over and gently picked the tiny young woman up into his arms, for the third time that evening. Nobody protested, and he carried her steadily into Joly's room, where he laid her on the bed softly.

He moved her tangle of damp curls to one side, clearing her face of the sweaty tendrils that were stuck to it. He then pulled the covers up around her, and was about to turn around and leave the room when, on an impulse, he leaned down and kissed her chastely on the forehead.

'Sleep tight, Éponine.' He whispered.

* * *

**Not even going to lie, I had a big stupid smile on my face the whole time when I wrote the last bit.**

**Send any feedback, comments, questions, reviews, abuse my way! It's always awesome to hear from you all :) I've got really rubbish at replying recently but I am reading them and I do love it, so thank you! And I'll try and improve my replying skills again...**


	19. Chapter 19

**It's me again! I actually kept my promise to update this time!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Les Mis, I'd know George Blagden and we would be best friends and watch disney movies and musicals once a week in matching onesies. He'd bring the beers, I'd buy the popcorn. Unfortunately I don't, so I have to make do with my best friend for this instead. (LOL she's brilliant, I don't mind really.)**

* * *

Enjolras didn't think anyone had seen his little 'gesture', but Combeferre had.

The mild-mannered philosopher had been stood just outside the doorway, waiting for Enjolras to leave so he could take a seat next to Éponine's bed for the night. Knowing Enjolras as he did, he knew the intense embarrassment that would follow if he knew Combeferre had seen him, so he stepped back, away from the door until Enjolras came out moments later.

'I won't be long, Combeferre, I just need to grab a few things.' He said stiffly as he played with his car keys.

Grantaire looked up at Enjolras from his seat on the couch, and then said brightly 'want company? I can't just sit here doing nothing, I'll go crazy.'  
'Anything to keep you off the drink, I suppose' was the cool reply. _Ouch. Looks like Enjolras is back to normal.  
_Unsurprisingly, Grantaire was used to this sort of comment, as they came his way several times a day - Combeferre had tried suggesting Enjolras laid off Grantaire a bit, but to no avail. As it was, Grantaire just grinned and replied 'Well you're in no better state to drive than me, looking at you, so I reckon you need someone with you to make sure you're all right. It's ok, thank me later'  
Enjolras nodded and the two left. Courfeyrac was still sorting Gavroche's bed out, so Combeferre was left alone with Éponine in Joly's room. As was his nature, he used the time to think; specifically, to think about the night's events, and what he had just witnessed with Enjolras and Éponine.

He'd had a horrible shock when Courf had turned up at his door, Gavroche in tow, and told him to come quickly, something terrible had happened to Éponine. On the short drive to Courf, Grant and Joly's apartment, he had been filled in on what little was known about what had happened: Enjolras had turned up at their door, soaking wet and beside himself with worry, carrying a severely injured Éponine in his arms; Joly was treating her on the kitchen table as apparently hospital was out of the question ('best if no one knows where us lot are' Gavroche had supplied, cryptically); Marius was nowhere to be seen. Combeferre was glad Courf had come to get him; he would never forgive himself if something happened to Éponine and he could have helped, and if nothing else he could be a calming influence over the more highly-strung Amis in the room.

Courfeyrac had told him Enjolras was worried, but even Combferre was amazed at just how frantic his best friend was when he arrived. Enjolras never betrayed his emotions, unless it was anger or passion related to social injustice, but he was a sight for sore eyes that night: his forehead constantly screwed up in a frown above wide, bloodshot, anxiety-filled eyes and his hands repeatedly running through his dripping wet curls, messing them up so that they strongly resembled a bird's nest by the time Joly was done. His pale blue button-down was sticking to his chest and almost see-through, and the dark colour of his originally pale chinos showed they were clearly soaked through. Despite all this, Enjolras appeared not to notice, his attention solely on the tiny, battered young woman on the table. Combeferre had originally thought that it was just shock at the state Éponine was in - it was unlikely Enjolras had seen anyone so hurt, and his friend might even have witnessed whatever had led to these injuries, he didn't know the story yet. But the care with which Enjolras had picked her up and carried her to Joly's room, not to mention his actions as he put her to bed, suggested to Combeferre that it was more than that.

He didn't know the marble man had it in him, to be honest. He knew Enjolras cared for his friends, and the people of France, but he'd always seemed to care from a comfortable distance, until now. He'd always disagreed with the group's perception of Enjolras as an asexual robot – having known the man since childhood, he knew Enjolras had had exactly three girlfriends, all fairly serious, but none who lasted very long. But since they'd started university, Patria and fighting for equality had completely eclipsed almost everything else on his list of priorities. The scores of women who threw themselves at him had never stood a chance, and usually ended up mending their broken hearts in Courfeyrac's bed. Could it be Enjolras was falling for the one woman who wasn't even remotely interested in him?

_Just like him to be bloody contrary._ Combeferre thought with a smile.

Should he tell Les Amis about what he had seen? They'd DEFINITELY take the piss, Enjolras would be mortified, and Éponine would probably get a bit of a shock when she woke up as well - not to mention the effect it would have on Grantaire's already half-broken heart. Besides, he didn't know what it _meant_ exactly, and he was pretty sure Enjolras didn't either.

No, best to leave it for now. He'd watch carefully, wait to see how events unfolded. Because something would definitely happen, for better or for worse: as much as Enjolras would try to pretend nothing had happened, it was definitely a big deal. _Even the marble man can't hold on to his emotions forever._

Satisfied with his decision, Combeferre took out his phone and started playing Fruit Ninja.

It was going to be a long night. He might even beat his high score.

* * *

On the outside, Enjolras was a model of calm, but inside he was on fire.

_What the hell was that about? Why would you kiss her? You don't even like her! She's infuriating! You argue with her on a daily basis! She's the only person on the planet as stubborn as you! What if somebody saw?_

_GOD, I hope nobody saw._

_But what if somebody saw?! You'll have to explain yourself and YOU don't even know why you did it!_

_This is all a big over-reaction Enjolras. You just did it because you were worried about her: you found her half-dead on the street for God's sake! You've had a highly irregular night, it's to be expected that you would do stupid things. It doesn't mean you're in love with her or anything!_

_Whoa, who mentioned love?! At WORST it's a bit of harmless physical attraction. Nothing I can't deal with. Nothing I haven't dealt with before, even if it is a touch stronger than usual. Probably just because it's been so long since I… did anything._

_And it was just on the forehead. My Great Aunt Alphonsine is always kissing people on the forehead; it's not a sexual thing!_

_Sure, keep telling yourself that…_

_I AM ARGUING WITH MYSELF ABOUT THIS. WHAT AM I DOING?! IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING ANYWAY!_

* * *

When he'd offered to come along, Grantaire hadn't realised it would be actually be a drive in complete silence. After the way he'd impressed Enjolras earlier, he was hoping for at least a polite conversation, even a friendly chat.

Who was he kidding? With Enjolras? OF COURSE NOT.

They pulled up outside Enjolras' apartment building and the handsome leader turned the engine off and ran his hand through his hair for the millionth time that night. Something was clearly up with him and Grantaire couldn't ignore it any longer.

'Are you ok, Enjolras? You're really quiet and you don't seem yourself.'  
'I'm fine, thank you. I'm just worried about Éponine… and Gavroche and everyone. I mean, we really could have done without such drama while we're still rallying and we've got schoolwork.  
_Man, I love you, but even I can hear how douchey that sounded. _'I don't think she planned on getting attacked or… whatever happened.'  
'No, no, of course not. I just hope there's no lasting damage. And I don't understand what DID happen! Marius was with her when they left the café and they only went to the Rue Plumet!'  
'He's got his head in the fucking clouds though, it's not like he would have been any help. She's done something to protect him, that much is clear, but what I don't know. How did you find her?'  
'Marius came back to the café alone and said he'd heard a scream and Éponine had been nowhere to be seen. He kept going on about that bloody woman of his and I thought I should go and look for her as he clearly wasn't going to.'  
'Where was she?'  
'I found her on Rue de la Quintinie, collapsed in a heap. I probably wouldn't have found her but she was… she was singing.'  
'You didn't know she could sing?'  
Something flashed through those beautiful blue eyes, darkening them for a second, but he simply replied 'no.'  
'She's amazing, isn't she? I think she uses it as a way to get her emotions out. Must have been difficult to find a way to do that growing up with such a twat of a father. I don't understand how she stays so strong, it's like she internalises everything then lets go of it in song. It's incredible, actually.'  
'You've heard her before, then?'  
'Yeah, earlier today. When she was in the back?' He paused for a second, deciding how best to phrase it; he wouldn't want to betray Éponine's secrets. 'She sang a love song about sticking by someone however they treat you.'  
He was quiet for a second, but when Enjolras eventually replied, it was stiff 'Marius.'  
_Wow, she's even more obvious that I thought if ENJOLRAS has noticed. '_Yeah.'  
'What was the song called?'  
'As Long As He Needs Me.'  
'Shit.' _Sums it up. Wait, did YOU just swear?!  
... Best not to mention it. _'Yeah.'

They didn't say anything else, just went upstairs to Enjolras' apartment. Grantaire waited in the living room as the man he loved showered and changed – God, he wished the bathroom door was see-though – and collected a few things for Combeferre (change of clothes, toothbrush, magazine). Then they left.

It would have been enough for Grantaire. Not only had he had a nice private viewing of a shirtless Enjolras as he searched for a clean shirt (seriously, he had had trouble controlling himself. That CHEST, still slightly damp from showering… holy moley.), he'd actually had a conversation with Enjolras – a REAL one, where he hadn't made a single snide comment.

But there was still one thing left to make Grantaire's night. They were driving back to his apartment in comfortable silence, when out of nowhere, Enjolras had said 'you know, you're actually great company when you don't drink. And what you said to Éponine about Juliets and Rosalines, that was really clever and kind. I was really proud to call you my friend.'

He was trying really hard not to think of this as the best night of his life, while his best friend lay seriously injured in his apartment, but Grantaire's chest swelled with pride and joy and he didn't know whether to cry with happiness or kiss the guy there and then. He decided it was best if he just stayed quiet.

'Just saying. You might get further in life without the alcohol.'

R was slightly deflated by the last comment, as well as the use of the word 'friend'. _See, this sort of thing is why I NEED to drink. You still don't see me as anything but a stupid drunk._

Then again, it was still the nicest thing Enjolras had ever said to him. That had to be progress. He'd been PROUD of him. That meant there was definitely hope yet, didn't it?

_Jesus, all these mixed signals. I need a beer._

* * *

**Another long one! Honestly, I've never edited anything as much as I edited this chapter. I even fully rewrote it like 4 times because I kept changing my mind about who would have seen him, or if anyone did. I hope I got it right in the end though...**

**Please let me know what you think, on this chapter especially with all the different views and options and things, I'm really interested to see what you guys think of the direction the story is going in (albeit slowly). At the end of the day, you're the ones giving up your time to read it, very kindly, so I'd love to get your perspective on it.**

******Also, what do you guys think of the new Doctor, Peter Capaldi? :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Super long one for you all today!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables. However, I do have a t-shirt which says France Before Pants on it, and has Enjolras's face on. So that's something.**

* * *

Éponine woke slowly from her deep, dreamless sleep. The first things she noticed were the stiffness in her joints and the immobility of her face, which confused her. _Why would I have a problem moving my face? _It was only when she tried to move her legs and was met with a blinding pain which shot straight through her, that she remembered everything: Cosette. Marius. Rue Plumet. Her father. Gueulemer. Pain. Crying. Loneliness. Then… Enjolras. After that, she remembered nothing at all.

She strained to open her eyes, succeeding in getting the right one open but getting nothing but water out of the left. She slowly and carefully moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and then looked down at herself: she was wearing a Black Keys t-shirt that was far too big for her, and grey men's sweat pants with an elasticated waist. Her right leg was heavily bandaged, and a check under her top told her that so were her ribs, suggesting that at least one might be broken. Feeling her face, she felt strapping on her nose and a plaster over her left eye, possibly a cut?

_Christ, I'm really in a state_.

Looking around the room, Éponine realised she was in unfamiliar territory. A chair was pulled next to the bed, so she hadn't been alone all night. _Where am I? I've never been in this place before. Is this Enjolras' room? It doesn't feel like somewhere he'd live, somehow. _She gathered all her strength, anchored herself on the chair and stood up, the sweat pants barely clinging onto her hips. Once she had her balance, she moved over to the desk, spotting a framed picture of Musichetta and several medical textbooks. _Oh, I'm in Joly's room! Enjolras must have brought me here._

She limped her way to the door and opened it, getting a bit of a shock at the scene she found in front of her – virtually all the Amis were there: R, Courf, Enjolras and Gavroche stood in the kitchen area, with the living room couches occupied by Combeferre (who looked wrecked), Joly, Jehan, Bahorel, Bossuet and Feuilly. Musichetta was sat on Bossuet's knee and Sylvie sat on the floor between Feuilly's legs. A collective cheer of 'ÉPONINE!' went up when they noticed her, and everybody sprang into action; Gavroche ran immediately to her side to hug her, closely followed by everyone else, shouting questions about her wellbeing and what happened and was she ok? They made such a racket talking over each other that she couldn't hear individual voices anymore, and the crowding and the noise was all a bit much for her, so she grabbed at the wall to steady herself, prompting Musichetta to yell 'RIGHT EVERYBODY MOVE!' and guide her into an armchair. She gladly collapsed into it, glancing gratefully at Chetta before quietly apologising to Feuilly and Sylvie for taking their seat.

The Amis all settled back down into chairs around her after Joly had told them to stop crowding her; some on the sofas, some on kitchen chairs they brought over, Gavroche cross-legged on the rug. Joly came over and checked her pulse and put a hand on her forehead, speaking to her quietly as he did so. 'You seem all right, your pulse and temperature are ok… you're a tough cookie, Éponine. Gave us a hell of a fright for a while there.'  
She just gave him a small smile in response and rasped out 'thank you so much for looking after me, Joly.'  
He waved her thanks away, simply replying 'what are friends for?'. Éponine kissed him chastely on the cheek and he smiled, before standing up and going to sit on the arm of one of the sofas.

She looked around at the worried faces of the group in front of her in silence, then realised something.

'Where's Marius?'

Her voice was barely above a hoarse whisper, and her throat felt like sandpaper. Her question was met with a very awkward silence, which was broken by Combeferre.

'We… don't know. He hasn't answered his phone.'  
Her heart stopped, the shock breaking her already weak voice as she croaked out 'is he ok, when did you last hear from him?!'  
R quickly stepped in to reassure her. 'Enjolras saw him last night just before he found you… Don't worry Pony; I'm sure he's fine. Probably just forgotten to charge his phone again, you know what he's like.'  
'I should go find him' She made to stand up, but the cries of outrage (and, if she was honest, the pain in her leg and ribs) pushed her back into her seat.  
'You're going nowhere.'  
'You're in no fit state!'  
'That's mental, Ép!'  
_Alright, I get it, bad idea! _'OK, OK, I'LL STAY!'

Silence again.

'If… if you're ready and strong enough… maybe you could tell us what happened?' Jehan asked tentatively. 'Don't feel you have to though.'

_Strong enough? I'm a Thénardier, we're always strong enough._

'No, no, I'll tell you, I'm fine. Really.' She cleared her throat and began to speak.

'Well you all know I went with Marius to find his girl – her name's Cosette – on Rue Plumet… we drove there from the café, and he got out and went to see her: she lived at the top end, you know, the big posh places with the gates and the high walls? I… I was meant to wait in the car but… I couldn't just sit there not knowing… so I got out and hid behind next door's wall to listen. She loves him as well by the way guys, so at least there's some good news there…' She went quiet for a second to keep her composure, not daring to meet anyone's eyes (if she had, she'd have been met with very sceptical expressions – raised eyebrows all round) before picking up her commentary again, with slightly stronger voice. 'Anyway… I saw someone sneaking around in the shadows across the road, so I went to go and see what was happening. It… it was this gang; they're called the Patron-Minette, bunch of thieves and murderers and generally terrible people. One of them was… was my father. They were going to rob Cosette's house and they'd have hurt her and her father and Marius, so I went to try and talk them out of it, distract them… it… _kind _of worked. I… I screamed and Marius went into Cosette's garden, which… didn't please my Pa and… well, I ended up like this.'  
'Your own father did this to you?' Sylvie whispered, horrified.  
'It's mostly this bloke Gueulemer actually… he looks like Shrek and he's got the brains of a dead sheep. Pa told him to, though.'  
'You should call the police, Éponine!' exclaimed Musichetta  
Éponine smiled grimly. 'No point. They know what these guys are like but don't do anything about it. They've tried before, but that lot always get off – my Pa once had a jury convinced that the policeman who found him robbed a house.'  
Bahorel joined in angrily 'but he can't be THAT good, nobody's above the law!'  
'He's not above it. He's below it, far below it. You've probably heard of him… I'm not really a Jondrette, you see… my real last name is Th-Thénardier.' She looked around at her friends' reactions. Most looked shocked, angry, a little scared. Even Enjolras' trademark apathy was tinged with surprise and anger. 'I'm sorry I didn't say, I was trying to protect you… and myself if I'm honest. And especially Gavroche.'  
'You've lost me with that last bit… why Gavroche?' queried Feuilly.  
'I'm 'er brother' the little boy announced cheerfully.  
Exclamations of 'REALLY?!' and 'NO WAY' and 'Actually, I totally see it now' filled the room, putting smiles on the faces of Éponine, Gavroche, Courfeyrac and Grantaire, who had already known.  
'Any other secret siblings we should know about? Is Bossuet actually your third cousin twice removed?' Musichetta joked.  
'They've got the same bad luck' Bahorel remarked, causing scattered chuckles.  
Éponine grinned 'Just a sister, Azelma… you don't know her. She's still at the inn'

'So what happened next?' asked Jehan. 'What did you do?'  
'Well, I couldn't move, for my leg? I… I tried to shout for Marius but I couldn't really speak and he wouldn't have heard or seen me, since I was in the garden opposite, so he drove away. My… my Pa had made it pretty clear he was coming… coming back… so I had to get out of there.'  
Combeferre raised the question they were all thinking 'But… how?'  
'I… I just grabbed the wall and… and used it to walk. It took a few tries…'  
'But your leg, your ribs!' Joly was horrified.  
'It hurt…. A lot, actually. But it was still better than what I'd have got if I stayed. It was still pissing down, so anything was better than sitting in a puddle.'  
'How did you keep walking?' asked Bossuet.  
_Well this is embarrassing _'I… I sang. It kind of… focuses me. I… I sort of knew I could keep going if I could just keep singing' _you are such a loser, Thénardier. They're all going to take the piss._

But they didn't. It had the opposite effect actually. Jehan and Sylvie both had tears streaming down their faces, with several others looking close to joining them. Gavroche moved over to hug her good leg, and Grantaire and Enjolras exchanged a strange look before looking down at their feet.

'So how did you get here?'  
'I… I don't remember exactly. I remember I fell, and Enjolras came and picked me up, then I remember being in his car and telling him no hospital, but… I don't know what then. I guess you must have brought me?' She addressed the last part directly to the handsome leader, who was stood, arms folded behind the couch.

He cleared his throat and said 'yes, well… Marius came and told me about the scream and that he didn't know where you were but he wasn't… well, anyway I decided to drive down to Rue Plumet to find you and I… I heard you sing and I found you on the floor. You'd got all the way to Rue de la Quintinie by the time I arrived.'  
'All that way?!' breathed Sylvie, through her tears.  
'Yes… so I picked you up and put you in my car and brought you here. Then Joly fixed you up and we all know the rest.'  
'YOU'RE ALL HEROES' sobbed Jehan, burying his face into Combeferre's shoulder. Ferre rolled his eyes and put his arm around the shaking poet to comfort him.

This was what Éponine had been wary of when telling her story. She didn't want to make out like she was some sort of Hercules, because in her mind, she wasn't. She'd just done what she had to do to stay alive.

That was what life was, right? Doing what you've got to do to stay alive.

So she didn't want to stay there and be praised for it for the next few hours, or have to take the pity or the tears from them all. She had enough to deal with. So she just said 'so now you all know, can I go home?'  
Joly wrinkled his nose and said 'you're still going to need a lot of care Éponine… where is home? Maybe one of us could stay with you there until you're stronger?'  
_Uh oh. I hadn't thought about this. _'Oh it's… you know… near the café.'  
'What building?' asked Feuilly  
_Shit _'well it's… not really in a building as such'  
'are you staying with a friend or a relative or something?' queried Musichetta  
'No…' _please don't figure it out, please don't figure it out.  
'_You're sleeping rough aren't you?' demanded Enjolras.  
_Ah, fuck._

* * *

Her silence told them all they needed to know. _'Oh you can't be serious. Not even you could be so bloody MINDED as to sleep on the street rather than ask for help' _thought Enjolras, furiously.

The others were similarly outraged.  
'Oh _Éponine, _why didn't you say, you silly cow, you could have stayed at the café, or with me?!'  
'You must be joking'  
'I don't know how you haven't got sick before'  
''ere, wot's wrong wif my elephant, why din't ya come down there?!'  
She tried to roll her eyes at them all, rasping out 'GUYS it's not that big a deal, I've been in the same place since I left the inn, it's safe!'  
'That's a pretty loose definition of safe, by anyone's standards' reasoned Combeferre from the sofa beside him.  
'What do you do with your things? How do you wash?!' asked Feuilly  
'Actually… she's got some stuff at the Musain' supplied Grantaire.  
'You KNEW?!' everybody cried, including Éponine and Enjolras.  
'Only since yesterday…'  
'This is all moot anyway, because she can't stay there' he declared.  
Her face said plainly, _Oh, I can't? Says who?!  
_'And why not, exactly?' she demanded. _Now you're just being silly. _  
'You're hurt, it's cold, you'll get yourself killed, one way or another!'  
'I've managed up to now!' _Managed to get yourself half dead!_  
'Yeah, looks like it!'  
'GUYS, stop arguing!' Combeferre cut them off.  
'He's right on this one, Ép, you can't stay there' reasoned Joly 'you need care, cleanliness… a roof over your head. You can stay here as long as you need, have my bed'  
'I can't do that, Joly, you've already done so much, I won't let you put yourself out of a bed.'  
'It's no trouble!'  
'It IS, I won't let you. But thank you so much, for everything…. Actually, whose clothes are these?'  
'Mine.'  
'Oh, thanks R. The Black Keys. Nice.' The curly-headed man just smiled, throwing the bags under his eyes into sharper relief.  
'You could stay with Bossuet, Bahorel and I?' piped up Jehan  
'Do you have a spare bed?' Joly pointed out  
'Well… no'  
'Then I can't, I'm not putting anyone out of a bed!'

Enjolras met Combeferre's gaze. He'd already thought the same thing as his room-mate; they had a spare room where they did their work. It was small, but it would do. _I'm not suggesting it, she's already mad at me! _He thought, but nodded at Combeferre, who said quietly 'We have a spare room'

* * *

_Who is we? _Thought Éponine. _Who does Combeferre even live with?  
_'Would you and Enjolras be all right with that?' asked Joly. _Oh, BRILLIANT. Is there any way I can get out of this?  
_'Really, I'm fine, I don't want to be any trouble.'  
'You're not getting out of this, Éponine' Combeferre stated, his voice calm but firm. 'I couldn't live with myself knowing you were sleeping rough like this. It's bad enough with Gavroche, and he's in Courfeyrac's room half the time.'  
_Really? That's new. _She looked at Gav, who blushed and said 'I've still got the lads in th' elephant, but Courf's got Netflix an' an airbed an'-'  
'its fine, Gav, I don't mind… I'm glad you're indoors, honestly, a bit safer' Éponine smiled reassuringly at him, and he beamed.  
'Exactly. So it's settled then.' Grinned Courfeyrac.  
_Ahh shit, I walked into that one. _'Right… fine. I'll move in with Enjolras and Combeferre.'  
They all cheered.  
'Only temporarily!' she warned, but nobody was listening.

* * *

**It's not the most original, but I'm not going down a totally cliché route with it, promise!**

**20 chapters... crazy. Thanks for sticking with me, here's to another 20! ;)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis**

* * *

She'd been living with them for three days.

The boys had moved their desks into their bedrooms so she had her own room – despite her repeated protestations, they'd bought her a bed, a bedside table and a wardrobe from Ikea. Enjolras had gone to get her clothes from the alley and Grantaire had brought the things from the cupboard, so it was even starting to look like her own room; her pictures blue-tacked to the walls, her books on the shelf, her hairbrush on the bedside table. It almost felt like a home.

Physically, she was much better. Her eye was still swollen, but she could open it now, and the bruises on her stomach and chest were starting to fade to a slightly paler purple, instead of the angry black they had been. It was too soon to see much difference in her other injuries, even for a fast healer like Éponine, but the combination of regular meals, small doses of painkillers and a comfortable bed meant that she actually felt fine as long as she didn't move around too much.

Her mind was going crazy though. They'd argued of course, as she'd expected. She'd had a go at him a few times over his perspective on her previous living situation, or her stubbornness, or something insignificant like a comment she didn't agree with about some report on the news, which felt like a big deal at the time but… wasn't really. Something about him was just _infuriating, _and it felt good to relieve some stress by yelling obscenities, even if she wasn't that mad at any case, after several gentle suggestions of a truce from several visiting Amis, she'd apologised and asked to start over, for Combeferre as much as anything.

It hadn't helped her calm down much - Marius hadn't been to see her, and he still had her phone so she couldn't call him. She couldn't think of anything else. Why wouldn't he come? _Where ARE you, Marius? _The only difference since her peace offering was that now she argued with herself in her head, rather than out loud with Enjolras.

There had been some good times, and some laughs – she'd got to know Combeferre much better, and found that he was a kind and funny guy, more considerate of others than anyone she'd ever met. There'd also been that incident earlier in the day where she thought Enjolras' eyes were going to pop out his head, and he'd run for the hills like a startled rabbit. Éponine hadn't been able to breathe for laughing for at least twenty minutes after that, his face had been priceless. Daily visits from Gavroche, Joly, Courf and R also kept her spirits up.

It wasn't ideal for anyone, but she felt like she was gradually settling in to life with Enjolras and Combeferre. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

He'd expected it to be awkward. He'd expected it to be difficult, and for them to argue constantly. He'd expected to hate every second.

She was clearly uncomfortable with moving in, and Enjolras had never liked changing his living arrangements, so he was uncomfortable too. He'd moved exactly twice in his life: out of home into University Halls, then out of Halls into the apartment with Combferre at the end of his first year. One room-mate, ever. If he was being totally honest, he also wasn't really sure about living with a _girl._ He'd never done it before. What if she made him and Combeferre buy scatter cushions and Heat magazine, and left tampons everywhere?

Despite his reservations about the whole situation, he knew it was the right thing to do. Éponine had nowhere else to go, and she was far too injured for life on the streets. His conscience wouldn't have stood for anything but her moving in, at least until she was back on her feet and able to find a place of her own.

Overall, he'd been right about the arguments. Even getting her there had been difficult, as despite his offer to carry her (again) to the car, she insisted on walking there herself. It probably would have been fine, but Joly's apartment was on the first floor, and the stairs were steep: Éponine had tripped halfway down and would have tumbled to the bottom if it weren't for Courfeyrac's quick reflexes. The urge to say 'I told you so' was almost overwhelming and Éponine obviously knew it: she had refused to meet his eyes as he drove her to his… _their_ apartment, clearly frustrated and embarrassed.

Worse was when Enjolras had offered to go and get her things and she had directed him and Gavroche to the alleyway where some of her clothes were. He was filled with fury at when he saw the dusty hole she called home: _why couldn't she just ask for help? This isn't fit for inhabitation – the dust, the bricks, the exposure! 'This is why I fight for equality, so people don't have to sleep in godforsaken corners like this, and I didn't even realise one of Les Amis was in this position, what does that say about me?!_' When he returned to the flat with the clothes, the anger was clearly written on his face and Éponine knew straight away what it meant. The first real fight of her stay had ensued and it was a fierce one, which was only broken up when Combeferre got home an hour later.

It hadn't been all bad. She'd let them buy her some flat-pack furniture, including a bed. The Amis visited a lot, relieving some of the tension. Also, during the evening of the second day, she had knocked on his door with a cup of coffee: a 'caffeinated olive branch,' as she called it. Leaning in his doorway was clearly uncomfortable for her, but she wanted to talk to him, so he invited her to sit down, despite little voice in his head shouting 'n_obody comes in my room. No. Definitely not. Get her out, get her out'. _Nervously holding his gaze, sitting in his desk chair, she'd cleared her throat slightly and said quietly 'Ok… I know you don't like me – don't deny it' (He wasn't going to) '- and we don't get on, or whatever. But I feel like since you've been so kind in letting me stay here and doing out that room for me that I really don't want to fight any more. So, I guess what I'm saying is… can we start over? I'd like it if we could be friends, or at least civil to each other. For 'Ferre if nothing else. He's too nice to live in a warzone.'  
Her bluntness had caught him off guard, so he'd hesitated for a second before agreeing. 'Yes, of course. I'd… I'd like that.' With a small smile – the dimples were back – she'd handed him the coffee. 'Black, yeah?'  
'Yes… thank you'  
'No problem.' Then she'd stood up and left the room without another word, leaving him confused and a little relieved.

The most awkward moment of her stay so far had been that morning, when she needed a shower: her leg was nowhere near good enough to stand up unaided for that long, so a bath was the only option. Unfortunately, she needed help getting in and out of the bath, and the bandages had to be removed from her chest beforehand, as well as her leg having to be wrapped in bin bags to keep _those_ bandages dry. Combeferre had helped her with all of this for the past few days, but he was out today, meaning Enjolras' input was required. Neither of them was happy about this.

The leg had been ok - she'd kept her shorts on while he wrapped it –and he'd stood behind her while unwrapping her ribs. The unavoidable awkward part was when she was getting into the bath; she needed to hold his arm to get in, but this was difficult when he was facing the other way so he didn't see her completely naked. She was most of the way into the bath when she'd slipped on the bottom and shrieked, falling towards him and grabbing his shoulder to prevent a heavy fall to the tiled floor. Unfortunately, she didn't have the strength to move herself backwards and into a sitting position after her leg and bashed against the side of the bath, so she had mumbled 'Enjolras, I think you're going to have to help me, I'm stuck'  
'What!? Where? How… I… What?'  
'It's ok, just take a step forward' He'd obliged.  
'Now lean down a bit.' He'd bent at the waist, hearing the splashing of the water as she sat down. Unfortunately, because he couldn't see, he'd leaned very close to her face and a few wispy curls of his hair had got stuck in the plaster covering her cut. As he straightened and stood up, they had been pulled out, ('OW!') the pain causing his eyes to reflexively open, giving him an eyeful of bruised boob and – 'OH GOD, SORRY!' Covering his eyes, he had run out of the bathroom, mortified, into his room and locked the door. The incident seemed to be burned into his mind, which was only now starting to clear, at 4 in the afternoon, approximately six hours later. He still hadn't left his room. He knew she'd got out the bath though, he'd heard the bathroom door go earlier, followed by quiet for the rest of the day. Enjolras supposed it was because neither of them wanted to face the other after such an embarrassment.

The silence in the apartment was broken by the sound of a knock on the door.

* * *

**Not entirely happy with this one... let me know what you think, please! You're all brilliant :D**


	22. Chapter 22

**I'm back! Thank you for being so understanding, I had the BEST weekend ever - I met Hank Green, the Starkids, Evanna Lynch, Chris Rankin, Alex Carpenter... IT WAS JUST AMAZING. If any of you ever get the chance to go, I whole-heartedly recommend it. I went on my own, but everyone is so nice that I made tons of new friends, so you don't even need to know anybody!**

**ANYHOOO here's the chapter, I'll delete that author's note. Your kindness is helping me get past my post-con downer, so thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables. But Clark Baxstresser said he liked my France before Pants shirt, so I'm still freaking out. **

* * *

Enjolras' body was in full working order, so reached the front door and opened it before Éponine got up off the sofa. She noticed he deliberately avoided her eyes as he passed her. _Oh my God, is he still freaking out about touching my boob? _A laugh started to build in her throat but died suddenly when she saw who was at the door.

It took a moment for her to recognise the smartly dressed, lean body, with its sloping shoulders and artistically tousled hair, but when her eyes found the freckles, the crooked smile and the shining brown eyes, her heart leapt. Marius was here! He hadn't forgotten about her! He cared about her after all!

'Hello Pontmercy. Please come in' was Enjolras' stiff greeting. It was the same for everyone: only the name ever changed.  
She decided to be more welcoming. 'Marius!'  
'Hi Enjolras… hi 'Ponine! I have your phone; you left in in my car when you disappeared off the other day. Oh Éponine, I have so much to tell you, I don't know where to begin…' Apparently it wasn't that hard to decide, as he began immediately, barely pausing for breath. He sat down on the sofa next to her, not reacting at all to her obvious wince as she cautiously lowered herself into the seat, or questioning her gritted teeth when she laughed. He didn't even comment on her injuries or ask if she was all right. He just talked and talked and talked about Cosette and what they'd done for the last few days.

Enjolras brought through a pot of tea and some cups and then sat in the armchair opposite them, watching the scene unfold with his jaw clenched and a mixture of anger and pity in his eyes. He didn't say anything - not that he could have got a word in edgeways – which Éponine was grateful for. Marius' words added still more pain to her aching body and she thought her heart might break when he mentioned that he was going to dinner with Cosette that very night, but she was glad that he was here, at last.

After what seemed like forever, Marius' brain noticed something other than Cosette, and he asked her cheerfully and curiously 'so, what happened to you the other night? One minute you were there then you were gone! And why are you staying here? '  
Enjolras raised a cold eyebrow and said 'You can't possibly be serious. You really don't know what happened?'  
Marius just laughed and said 'I was in heaven, my friend, completely oblivious to the world around me! I haven't so much as looked at my phone since I saw you in the café and you rushed off, I've just been with my darling Cosette!'  
Enjolras' face clouded with disgust. 'That explains a lot. You didn't even have the decency to –'  
'IT WAS NOTHING, honestly, I was just thinking about your safety and I thought I saw trouble… I did, actually. A gang was going to rob Cosette's house.' Éponine really couldn't be bothered with an argument with Enjolras so she cut him off before he could reach full flow.  
'Goodness, really?! I must tell her at once! She isn't safe there!'  
_Pa won't go back for a while, in case the police are watching it. He'll know by now I got away. _'I don't think they'll try again'  
'how can you be sure?'  
'I just know. Don't worry; I'll keep you and Cosette safe.'  
Enjolras was clearly getting more and more irritated as the conversation went on. 'Éponine got rid of them.'  
'Really, 'Ponine!? However did you do that!?' He was so impressed and pleased, her heart felt light again. The happiness she felt seemed to warm her whole body, down to her aching bones.  
'It was nothing, really!'  
'It certainly was not nothing, Éponine, they almost killed you! I found you in the middle of the street, covered in blood!'  
'Thank you, from the bottom of my heart Éponine… you kept my Cosette safe. I cannot thank you enough!' She was almost crying, but had no idea whether she was happy or sad. Unable to trust herself to speak, she just smiled. Marius felt in the pockets of his grey, slim fit suit trousers, then pulled out two mobile phones: his and Éponine's. As he handed over her shabby old Nokia, he checked the time on his shiny iPhone, and then jumped up. 'I must go! I'm meeting Cosette! Before I do though, Éponine, could you do something for me?'  
She beamed, feeling as though she could fly. _He wants ME to do something for him! Again! He trusts me! _'I'd do anything for you, Marius, you know that!'  
'Would you meet Cosette for coffee tomorrow? She really wants to meet everyone but I mean, all the lads together are, well… a lot. So could you just befriend her, ease her into the group gently? I know you'll be fast friends! In the Musain, at 11.30?'

Her heart broke into a million pieces. This was a nightmare.

She was well aware that she shouldn't do it. She knew a glance at Enjolras would tell her he thought she was stupid. Nothing but heartache could come of this - and she wasn't really physically well enough to leave the apartment yet, anyway.

She met his eyes, on the verge of saying she couldn't do it. But the sparkle and the cheer in his face shattered her resolve in an instant. 'Of course, that'll be lovely. Good plan not to introduce her to everyone at once… that would seriously be dropping her in at the deep end!'  
With nothing more than an 'Excellent! Well, bye, 'Ponine, and thank you! Bye, Enjolras!' Marius let himself out of the apartment and was gone. Éponine hadn't even got up out the seat before the door slammed.

She and Enjolras sat where they were in silence for a minute or so, her staring at the closed door with tear-filled eyes, him staring at the floor in front of him, jaw clenched.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Éponine cut him off. 'I don't even want to hear it, Enjolras.' Slowly, painfully, she got up out the chair and walked out the apartment without another word.

* * *

**I am so sleepy! I'll reply to message etc tomorrow, and another chapter, hopefully!**

**Thank you, please feel free to leave a review, and see you all soon! :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Sorry! I had best friends' birthdays and results day and all sorts... this is a LONG one though, so hopefully it makes up for it? I'll also reply to all your messages as soon as I can, I really appreciate them all, I've just been so busy! It's been crazy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables. I can only dream. (a dream in time gone byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Sorry, it's 4 am and I need sleep.)**

* * *

She had to get out. She knew full well she couldn't go far, but that wasn't going to stop her trying. She'd gotten pretty far on the night she got beaten up, this should be a piece of cake compared to that, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

Going downstairs was definitely the main issue; the extreme pain that arose in her leg and ribs taught her that very quickly. Upstairs wasn't so bad though, so she went up, gripping the bannister for dear life. The stairs went around a corner and back on themselves, and she was surprised to find nothing but a large landing and the door to a fire escape directly above Enjolras and Ferre's apartment: from the size of the building she'd expected another apartment or a janitor's cupboard or _something._ Éponine wasn't sure what to do next, but there was no sign of an alarm on the door or anything, so she opened it and hobbled through. She sat on the top step, screwing her nose up at the cold feeling of the metal on her legs and back.

On the way out of the apartment she'd thought she might cry, but once she was there, she found that the tears just never came. Éponine wasn't a crier as a rule. She'd learned long ago that nobody would come and look after her if she did, so what was the point? She'd probably cried more in the last week than she had in the last ten years of her life.

Éponine just gazed at her feet, feeling empty, depressed and numb all at the same time. Somehow, Marius' visit to the apartment today had hammered home just how little he cared about her. Until this point, she'd always been able to defend him ('he was concentrating on something else' 'I was trying to hide those bruises anyway!') but today, even she couldn't excuse his behaviour.

She should have been angry, but she was just numb. But that was ok. Numb, she was used to. She could cope with numb.

So she stayed on the fire escape, hugging herself and looking at her feet. Numb.

* * *

It didn't take long for Enjolras to start to worry. He understood that she needed her space; he was the same when he was angry and sad, but a person in her condition shouldn't be wandering around. She couldn't have got that far anyway, not with that leg and those ribs.

Why was he worried, anyway? She'd made it pretty clear she wanted to be alone. He didn't have to look after her. He wasn't even her friend, really. After the incident in the bathroom earlier, he couldn't even look her in the eye. He should just stay put and do some work.

_But her LEG._

He argued with himself for about ten minutes, and then sighed in frustration and stood up. Grabbing his keys, he marched out of the apartment and looked around, realising he had absolutely no idea where she was.

_Brilliant._

_Well there's only the fire escape upstairs, so she'll have gone down. _He searched the floor below: in the janitor's cupboard, under the stairwell, by the mailboxes, but Éponine was nowhere to be seen.

She wouldn't have gone outside, would she? She was only wearing a pair of Grantaire's shorts and a vest top: no jumper or shoes. He walked into the street to be sure, but couldn't see her. The only place he hadn't tried was upstairs.

_If she's not up here, I'm going back to my room, and I'm forgetting about it. She obviously doesn't want to be found._ He walked up both flights of stairs to find the door to the fire escape slightly ajar. _Got you._

He walked outside and sat down beside her, startling her out of her reverie. She looked over to see who it was, then returned to staring in front of her, so he did the same. Neither of them said anything for a while, until Enjolras broke the silence.

'I told you he was an idiot.'

In other circumstances, she might have put up a fight, or even laughed, but not today. Today, she didn't say anything.

He tried again. 'Pontmercy isn't even that great. He hardly notices anything but himself, so don't feel angry, or sad, or… whatever. Also, it is preposterous of him to ask you to meet this girl. No-one will look down on you if you don't, you know.'

Enjolras was not only saying all of this because it was true (in his opinion, which was basically the same as fact, as far as he was concerned) but also because Éponine was scaring him. He'd seen her in many situations, many moods. He'd seen her angry, he'd seen her happy, he'd seen her drunk, he'd seen her trying to pretend she didn't care. She was a good actress; her mask of indifference was almost as good as his. But she wasn't THIS good. She'd never managed to make herself look completely empty inside; her eyes always gave her feelings away. And calling Pontmercy an idiot always, _**always**_ got a reaction.

Nothing. What should he say, or do? He really wasn't good at this. At all.

'I don't know what I can say to make it better. I know you must be furious –'  
'nope.' _Oh thank God, she spoke. Even if it was a dull and monosyllabic, it was a word.  
_'You're not angry?'  
'nope.'  
'it's ok if you are, you know.'  
Her voice rose, from a deep, depressed monotone to a more passionate tone. 'I know it's ok. But I'm not. I should be. He didn't even try to find out if I was all right after I nearly got myself killed to protect him and his little _girlfriend_. He STILL hasn't noticed that I'm desperately in love with him. And to top it all off, he wants me to _get to know_ this bitch. I already know her. Better than Marius. But he doesn't care.'  
'You know her?' _That's probably not what I should have got from that. _  
'We grew up together, before things went really bad for my family. We lived in Montfermeil, we had a _house.'  
'_Is she your sister or something? The one you don't talk to?'  
'No, that's Azelma. Cosette's Ma was on her own, and needed to work away for money, so my parents took Cosette. Her Ma sent money all the time – never much, but as much as she could, I think. Anyway, my parents treated Cosette like a slave, and so did me and 'Zelma. We were horrible to her. She did all the cleaning and washing – we had a bigger inn then, more people – and wasn't allowed to play with us or our toys. I feel really bad about it now, obviously. She probably hates me.'  
'How come she left? Did your parents throw her out?'  
'No, she left when we were like 7 or 8… her Ma died. This guy came and claimed her, paid the old man a load of money for her, and left. After that, everything went downhill – the inn started losing money, my parents started fighting… and I had to do what Cosette did. And more, in time. Look what's become of me. Think I got my bad karma back in the end.'  
'Sounds to me like you didn't know any better.'  
'It's no excuse for how we treated her. If she hadn't got out… she's not as tough as me. I don't think she'd have coped, if we lost everything.'  
'With the worse conditions?'  
'Yeah. And the… jobs.'  
_Surely not. She wasn't. Was she? I can't ask that. 'Hey Éponine, funny question: are you a prostitute?'  
_'…jobs?'  
'I did what I had to. Gavroche came along when I was ten or eleven and I had to look after him. We had to survive.'  
'You were a… lady of the night'  
'yep.'  
'Oh, Éponine, I'm so sorry.'  
'It's not your fault, is it? And don't pity me. I don't want pity.'  
'I wouldn't dream of it.'  
'And don't tell anybody. I don't know why I've told you. I've never told anybody else.'  
This surprised him. 'Not even Grantaire?'  
'Nope. R's never judged me or pitied me before but… I think this story is a step too far. Also it doesn't matter. It's done.'  
'How long did it go on for?'  
'The last time was the night before I left the inn.'  
He'd known her then. He hadn't expected that. That meant it had continued for… almost ten years. That meant he hadn't noticed. That meant none of them had noticed.  
'Jesus, Éponine. I didn't know.'  
'No shit, I did try and hide it.'

They fell silent again. He didn't know what to say. This, right here, was why he was fighting for equality. The planning that Les Amis did every day was to work out a way to make it so that nobody ever has to go through what Éponine went through. Because nobody deserves that. And definitely not Éponine. The thought made him angry and sick to his stomach.

She surprised him by suddenly mumbling 'I'm sorry.'  
'What for?'  
'Dumping all of this on you. You don't want to hear all this. It's just my whining. You don't even like me.'  
_You must be kidding._ 'I thought we had a truce?'  
'You abandoned me in the bath.' He flushed a deep scarlet at the memory, and she smirked, bringing out her dimples. 'I'm not mad at you, you know. You're not the first guy to touch my boob. By a long shot.'  
'I-I-I just… I….' he cleared his throat. _HOW IS SHE SO CALM ABOUT THIS, THERE WAS ACTUAL TOUCHING OF BREAST. I FELT IT SQUISH. _'I'm sorry. For the… touching and for leaving you. I was just…'  
'Embarrassed.' She sounded amused now.  
'Yes.'  
'It's ok. But climbing and crawling out of that bath was one of the most uncomfortable and painful experiences of my life, so for next time, an awkward, post-boob grab conversation is preferable to that.'  
'Next time?!'  
She laughed. 'You know what I mean.'  
He did. But he liked that she had laughed. It was a nice sound. Hang on… had he cheered her up? HIM?! _I should put this on my CV: 'good at cheering people up. It surprised me too.''_

'I guess it's just hit me that he really doesn't give a shit about me. He doesn't even notice me. He'll never love me.'  
_Never mind. No updating the CV for now.  
_'He's an idiot.'  
'Don't be mean, dickhead.'  
'WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING HIM?' he burst out, exasperated.  
'I DON'T KNOW HE IS AN IDIOT AND I KNOW HE IS BUT I LOVE HIM!'  
_LOVE?! Wow. _Without thinking, he just asked 'God, WHY?'  
Silence. He kicked himself for asking the wrong thing and freaking her out, when she'd opened up and _DAMMIT ENJOLRAS WHY DO YOU ALWAYS MAKE PEOPLE HATE YOU.  
_'He was the first person to treat me like a human being. He was nice and kind and handsome, and he offered to buy me a drink and said he liked my t-shirt and… he was NORMAL. I'd never had that before. I fell straight away and I haven't looked back.'  
'So it could have been anyone? If they were nice to you first? It could have been… Grantaire, or Courfeyrac. Or Combeferre.'  
'I suppose… I've never thought about it. It's always been Marius.'  
_And that's why love is stupid and pointless. It's illogical and blind. Thank God I've got nothing to do with it._ 'It doesn't always have to be. And meeting Cosette for coffee won't make it easier.'  
'No.' Her voice lowered again, almost to a whisper. 'But it'll help him.'

As stupid as he thought love was – and he did – he had to admire her strength. She was meeting the girlfriend of the man who she considered the love of her life, who she just happened to grow up with in the worst conditions going. All to make HIM happy. Knowing full well what it would do to her. He really didn't know what to say.

* * *

'It'll help him.' That's why she was doing it. That was enough. It would make Marius happy, so she would do it.

Wait, why was she being so open with Enjolras? They weren't even friends.

Then again, he did save her life. Did she ever thank him for that?

Clearing her throat, she said 'thank you, by the way.'  
He looked confused. 'What for?'  
'For finding me. And looking after me. And letting me stay here. And coming up here to talk to me on this fire escape. I owe you a lot, but I don't thank you. So thanks.'  
'It's fine'  
'It's not. I'll repay you one day, I promise.'  
'Really, it is. This is why I fight and plan and give speeches and study. For you and people like you. You've been through so much more than you should have – how old are you?'  
'19 but –'  
'You're still a teenager and you've suffered more than most people ever will and it's not fair, or your fault and NO ONE is helping you. I don't understand and I HAVE to fix it. I can't stand by.' He paused. 'Plus Ferre and Joly did most of the looking after.'

She was stunned. He was a great public speaker, but even just talking to her, he had passion and fire and flair and she almost _believed him_. He really cared about changing things. This guy was going far. _I think I have a future Prime Minister on the fire escape with me.  
_ 'You're a really great man, Enjolras. You're really going to go places.'  
He looked surprised. 'Thank you.'  
'I mean it. I've never gone along with this stuff but with you, I can almost believe it.'  
'Almost?!' _Oops. Wrong thing to say. Change the subject, quick.  
_'Thank you for coming and sitting with me today… why is there a fire escape on a three-storey building? And why is one of the storeys nothing but fire escape?'  
'I'm not sure. It doesn't make a lot of sense.'  
'Well, this is a nice fire escape. As fire escapes go.'  
'I like it.'  
'Me too.' She stood up: slowly and stiffly, but purposefully. 'I really need the loo though, and I'm definitely not looking forward to these stairs. Downstairs is difficult.'  
He sprung up. 'Here, I'll help'  
'I can manage.'  
'Shut up and let me help you.' _Wow. OK. _He picked her up like he had that night on Rue Plumet. Éponine wrapped her arm around his neck, his curls tickling her arm, and she looked at him. Really looked at him. Every time she thought she understood this guy, he went and did something like this. Cheer her up. Rescue her. Carry her downstairs.

Weird.

Nice, though.

* * *

He finished his little speech about equality and fighting for her and people like her, then immediately felt stupid, which was unusual. He didn't usually perform for crowds of one, though. He looked over at her and was startled to find some of that fire in her eyes - not a lot, but a definite spark. A twinkle. Like the stars, or the Sun. And she had the weirdest expression on her face.

She had the same expression later, when he told her to shut up and picked her up to go downstairs. Her arm was brushing the curls on the back of his neck and he had to try really hard to ignore it because it felt really, really good.

_For crying out loud, Enjolras. I know it's been a while, but… pull yourself together._

He placed her down gently in the living room of their apartment and they went their separate ways for the evening – he headed to his room to work, she went straight to the toilet then the fridge. Neither of them spoke of what they had shared on the fire escape, but both thought about it. And their opinions of each other would never be the same again.

* * *

**Please, please, please tell me what you think in a review! Your support means so much to me: I never dreamed I'd get over 5 and a half thousand views, or 37 followers, so thank you all so much! I love you! Especially you. Yes, you, pet.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hello again, friends! I've just got back off a night out so if anything doesn't make sense, that's why. Please just tell me, and I'll fix it.**

**DISCLAIMER: still no.**

* * *

Combeferre arrived home the next morning to a strange atmosphere in the apartment. Something was definitely different; Éponine and Enjolras weren't behaving any differently towards each other, but he got the feeling something had happened. If it was possible, and he wouldn't have thought it was until now, they were MORE awkward around each other than they had been before, but they seemed determined not to be. If it had been anybody else, he would have thought they'd kissed or slept together or something, but Éponine and Enjolras… not a chance. Neither of them would make a move.

He kept quiet all through breakfast, gathering his thoughts until he helped Éponine have her bath. As he took the plastic off her leg afterwards, he asked her if something had happened.  
'Oh, no! No no no. I'm just nervous… I'm meeting Cosette for coffee later and I'm really not looking forward to it. Nothing's wrong.'  
'Have you and Enjolras had another fight or something?'  
'What makes you say that?'  
'You're being really awkward with each other.'  
'We're always –'  
'more than usual.'  
'Oh. No, nothing's wrong there. Well, he was funny while Marius was here yesterday, actually. Kept trying to fight my corner, bless him.'  
Combeferre chuckled 'you don't need any help there.'  
She laughed, throwing her head back so that her hair flicked water all over the place. 'Nope.'

* * *

She'd intended to walk to the Musain – it wasn't THAT far and she was getting kind of stir-crazy from being inside all the time. To her dismay, this decision was immediately vetoed by both Ferre and Enjolras, who insisted she let Enjolras drive her there ('We have accepted that you're set on going through with this ridiculous venture, but there is no way on God's green earth we are letting you injure yourself further in the process.').

She put on her underwear and a t-shirt, and then looked at her one and only pair of jeans. They were black, low-rise skinnies, and there was absolutely no chance of her getting them on over the strapping on her legs. Rifling through the drawer of the clothes she only came up with Grantaire's shorts or sweatpants as alternatives. _Shit. _

Deciding the sweatpants were the less horrendous of the two, she pulled them on, ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it slightly, and then grabbed her shoes and jacket. Enjolras was waiting in the living area, sat patiently in the armchair as she wrestled her shoes on. As she slowly straightened up and got her breath back, he asked 'ready?'  
'As I'll ever be.'

* * *

He gave her a small smile then picked up his car keys, before opening the apartment door for her to walk through. _Aww. What a gentleman.  
_'I… erm... I can carry you down the stairs again, if you'd like.'

Part of her would like. It was going to be hard work. But, frankly, she was too proud and started mumbling something about how she'd never get better if she didn't push herself (not true), before she declined gratefully, and set off on her Herculean trek down the stairs.

It was extraordinary; he had to give her that. Considering she physically couldn't manage this just yesterday, even the painfully (in every sense of the word) slow progress she was making was incredible. He went down beside her, ready to catch her if she tripped or give support if necessary, but he needn't have bothered: she eventually made it all the way to the car unaided. He drove her to the café and dropped her off, then went away to class, but the look of triumph that had been on her face when she'd reached the car kept flashing across his mind. _Éponine really is one tough cookie._

* * *

Éponine sat at a table downstairs, to avoid both the stairs and the watchful eyes of Les Amis, of which at least a few would definitely be in the upstairs room. Musichetta brought her her usual black coffee, then smiled sadly at her, saying gently 'it's not too late you know. Leave. Why put yourself through this?'  
'It's not for me. Thanks for the coffee, 'Chetta, I appreciate it. Could you take the price out of my next lot of wages?'  
'Have it on the house. And don't you even dare think of coming back to work yet, you need to get BETTER.'  
Éponine rolled her eyes and mumbled 'Yes, Mum…'  
'You wish I was your mother.' Musichetta quipped before leaving to take someone's order._ You have no idea._

Just then, a slight, beautiful, blonde angel appeared at the table. It was Cosette, dressed in another pink dress. _I wonder if her entire wardrobe is pink…  
'_…Éponine?' she asked, shyly.  
'Yeah… Cosette, right?'  
'Yes!' she beamed. 'Can I sit down?'  
'Course.' _Keep it short. Brief. To the point. That way you can't give anything away. _  
'I'm so excited to meet you, finally, I've heard all about you from dear Marius, of course, but it's not the same, is it?'  
'No… Nice to meet you, too. I've heard a lot about you, too.'  
Cosette blushed prettily. _How is that even possible? A PRETTY blush? I always look like I've been out in the sun too long. _'Oh dear, how terrible. All bad things, I'm sure.'  
Éponine laughed. 'No, definitely good things. A lot of them… seriously, a lot. Marius never talks of anything else.' She hadn't intended it to be funny, but Cosette was laughing, a tuneful laugh like bells. Or wind chimes.

They made polite small talk for a while: the weather, the coffee, the cake Musichetta brought. After that, they moved on to more personal things; how they'd met Marius, Les Amis and their schemes and their personalities and their quirks. Despite herself, Éponine found she was talking 90 to the dozen and laughing and smiling – Cosette was very easy to talk to: she was a good listener and seemed to know exactly what to say and when. She was also very, very… NICE.

This was not what Éponine had expected.

A short silence fell as they both started on a second drink – another black coffee for Éponine, iced tea for Cosette.  
She couldn't take it anymore and suddenly burst out 'you know who I am, don't you?'  
Cosette looked confused. 'Yes, you're Éponine. Aren't you? This might be pretty embarrassing…'  
'The same Éponine, though. From the inn. Éponine Thénardier.'  
'I know.'  
'Aren't you… mad at me? I was horrible to you.'  
Cosette laughed again. 'Éponine that was 10 years ago, I haven't held a grudge all that time! Anyhow, you were just doing as you were told!'  
'But I was AWFUL!'  
'I have been lucky enough since Papa adopted me to have had the most wonderful life, full of love and joy. Nothing you did has caused me any permanent harm, so why get upset?'  
_Damn, she's just LOVELY, isn't she? So cheerful and kind and… dammit. I can't even dislike her!  
'_I'm really sorry, Cosette.'  
'Oh nonsense. I am too, I know you haven't had the easiest time since the last time we met.'  
'Oh don't pity me, I'm fine, really. I've got by. Me, Zelma, Gav. We're ok.'  
'Gav?'  
'My little brother, Gavroche. He's nine.'  
'Oh, lovely! Do you know, there's a Gavroche in the school I work in – a few years above my class? I'm a teacher, by the way. Anyway, he's such a character! He's a Jondrette though, not a Thénardier.'  
'It's actually him. We don't like advertising who we were…' Éponine explained.  
Cosette understood completely. 'Fair enough. Oh, I wasn't going to mention it, please don't be offended but… can I take you shopping one day? Those sweatpants are far too big, they're falling right off you!'  
'They aren't mine, they're R's. He leant me them after the… incident.'  
'That was kind of him! You're so lucky to have such fantastic friends, Éponine. All of them sound just lovely. Marius says Enjolras and Combeferre are letting you live with them!'  
'Yeah… it's only temporary. I want to get my own place.'  
'Of course, but it's lovely that you can stay there now!'  
'Yeah. They're great.' Éponine swallowed hard, then said 'And I'd love to go shopping with you. As soon as my leg is better, promise.' It wasn't even a lie. Cosette was very easy to be around. If only she wasn't with Marius, Éponine would just love her, but at least now she saw what he saw in her. She really didn't have a chance any more. There was no way she could compete with THIS.

* * *

They continued to talk right through lunch, and were still sat there chatting away when Enjolras came for Éponine at 3. He looked astonished at the happy young women, but said nothing.

_Éponine, you are either the world's best actress or just a very strange girl._

_Something tells me it's the second._

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Also thank you all so much for your reviews on the last few chapters - please, keep them coming! :D**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hello again, friends! Sorry it's so late in the day, but hangovers are not helpful when writing. Also, my big brother came home to see me to celebrate my A Level results, so I've been spending time with him, which was awesome! Anyway, another chapter!**

**10 points to anyone who spots the Cool Runnings reference.**

**Disclaimer: Alas, ownership of Les Miserables continues to elude me.**

* * *

The next few weeks were fairly uneventful. Éponine's injuries improved every day, and soon her ribs were almost fully recovered and she was barely even limping. She went back to work, and started paying rent to Enjolras and Courfeyrac (although she was fairly certain they had lied to her about the amount, it definitely wasn't an equal third.) Her friendships with Les Amis also went from strength to strength, and she adopted a kind of 'mother' role within the group: she helped feed them at the café and brought them drinks as usual, but she also worked out how to calm Joly down when he was freaking out about germs, keep Bahorel away from _too_ many fights, stop Enjolras from working too hard, and look after R when he was completely wasted. Fortnightly 'Disney nights' with Jehan and Bossuet and weekly 'Musicals nights' with Courf and R also began and were observed religiously: there were severe forfeits for anyone who cancelled on them. Courfeyrac couldn't look at strawberry jelly for weeks after he ditched them for a girl, and the memory of him sitting in a tub of it still brought tears of mirth to R and Éponine's eyes.

Éponine went shopping with Cosette, who insisted on buying her a whole new wardrobe, refusing all Éponine's offers of money and ignoring her repeated protestations. For a calm, quiet little thing she was sneaky when getting people to do things they didn't want to. Éponine also suspected that Les Amis had all chipped in some money to get her clothes, just because of the amount of cash Cosette carried in 10 and 20 Euro notes, all crumpled in different ways – the whole thing stank of a whip-round. Although she was irritated that they'd hid it from her and her pride was hurt by accepting the charity, she was also extremely grateful to the guys for doing it. She really had needed new clothes. And she had a nice time shopping with Cosette, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had 'girl time' – she was by no means a 'girly girl', but it was fun once in a while.

Sylvie touched the girls of the group deeply by asking Cosette, Musichetta and Éponine to be bridesmaids at her wedding. Cosette had cried when she had been asked, and even 'Chetta and Éponine got misty-eyed when they agreed. A shopping trip was planned for nearer the wedding. Joly, Combeferre and Enjolras were to be Feuilly's groomsmen.

Les Amis' campaigning against injustice was hotting up, as a government had been elected which was even more unjust than the last: a string of laws were announced which took the rights to things like tax breaks and free health insurance from the poor. The lack of uproar following these announcements and shocked and angered the young men, particularly Enjolras, and they were rallying and protesting harder than ever. Not a day went by when an angry letter wasn't sent to the Paris newspapers, and Jehan's blog consisted of much less romantic poetry and far more educated comments on the social injustices in French society these days. (Of course, he did still post the romantic poetry. He was still Jehan.).

Marius had been over the moon that she had become friends with Cosette, and introduced his girlfriend to the rest of Les Amis, confident that Éponine could offer support if necessary. She was an instant hit with everyone (how could she not be?) once they were confident Éponine was handling the situation well enough. It was hard to watch, as her and Marius did not believe in hiding their love for each other in any situation, but Courf helped her by starting the 'lovely count' – every time Cosette said the word 'lovely' (which was a lot) they would catch each other's eye, and at the end of the night would swap how many they'd counted. Because it was Éponine and Courfeyrac, it quickly became competitive, and they'd place bets on the total for the night. It wasn't just a fun little secret to share with her friend, it helped distract her from the goo-goo eyes, and she really appreciated it.

Gavroche spent his time sleeping in either Éponine or Courfeyrac's room, if it was cold or raining and he didn't want to sleep in his elephant. With the help of Les Amis, and the new addition of Cosette, his schoolwork improved, although he still said it was all pointless, he was 'clearly going to be a rockstar anyway.'

She also started singing at the Musain three nights a week for extra money, after Musichetta overheard her singing 'Harry' from A Very Potter Musical in the shower at the apartment. The response had been overwhelming; the surprise on the faces of most of Les Amis when she'd belted out the same song on her first night was priceless, and she made a week's wages in tips on the nights she sang. Apparently it wasn't only drunk, middle-aged perverts who liked to listen to her sing. The singing also gave her an outlet for her feelings about Marius – singing her heart out when he was right there was liberating, almost like telling him how she felt, and she still held on the tiniest hope that he'd fall for her. Singing had worked for the little mermaid, hadn't it?

* * *

Grantaire was surprised almost daily by Éponine at the minute. First of all, by the speed of her recovery – he'd thought she'd never be the same again when he'd seen her lying, broken, on his kitchen table, but there was barely even a mark now on her face, and you couldn't even tell her nose had been broken at all. Her ribs were hardly giving her any problems, and there was half the amount of strapping on her leg that there had been at the start. He knew she'd developed the resilience because her father beat her, but that only made it more impressive in his eyes.

He was surprised by how her body had changed in other ways too; a safe place to live and regular meals had filled her out in all the right places. She wasn't fat, or even particularly curvy, but she was no longer so painfully thin: her face was less gaunt and her cheeks were a little plumper, emphasising those famous dimples; her ribs weren't so prominent and her hips were a little wider. Her boobs had also increased in size by at least 50%. Frankly, she was a sex bomb these days. Christ, he was _gay_ and he was a little bit attracted to her.

He was very surprised she'd agreed to stay in the apartment with Enjolras and Combeferre – he had fully expected her to move out the first day she could physically carry her things downstairs, but she was still there. Her and Enjolras even seemed to be getting along ok, he was almost jealous! (He wasn't though. Éponine and Enjolras? He couldn't imagine two people less likely to start banging). He wasn't surprised she was paying rent, though. Pony took no charity.

He was surprised at how affectionate she'd become with the lads; she was like a sister to them all, not just Gavroche. Or a mother. A bad-ass mother, who don't take no crap from nobody - God help you if you crossed her - but a mother nonetheless.

He was blown away by her strength with the Cosette thing. It would have been very easy for her to mindlessly hate the girl – he knew how the rejection felt and was exceptionally glad he didn't have that sort of problem with Enjolras – but she actually made friends with her and helped her fit in with Les Amis. She definitely wasn't over Marius, her eyes told him that, and so had she one Musicals Night, but if he hadn't known her well, he might have thought she was.

Her beautiful voice and deep love of musicals had been less of a shock for him than it had been for the others, as he'd heard her sing before - he'd thought Courfeyrac was going to shit himself, he'd been so shocked by the revelations ('WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO SING LIKE THAT? OH JESUS, I'VE HAD A MINI PATTI LUPONE ON MY HANDS ALL THIS TIME AND I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW! I THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST A BADASS TOMBOY, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU LIKED MUSICALS? KEEP IT TO YOURSELF, BUT I LOVE THEM! WE HAVE TO WATCH THEM TOGETHER! OH MY GOD WE HAVE TO GET YOU AN AUDITION FOR GLEE! OR GO ON THE X FACTOR! OR ONE OF THOSE BRITISH SHOWS WHERE YOU GET A WEST END PART. DO THEY STILL MAKE THOSE? THEY SHOULD, I LOVE THEM! I LOVE YOU! I'M SO PROUD!').

All in all, as the autumn wore on and slowly turned to winter, Éponine seemed to be doing pretty well. He only wished he could find her a guy to replace Marius to make her REALLY happy. As long as it wasn't Courfeyrac, who's flirting had reached new heights as Éponine got hotter… or any of Les Amis, actually… he'd be happy.

* * *

**For a raging drunkard, R is very sensitive. I love him! Courfeyrac is also a favourite of mine**

**I also love you guys for all your support, thank you and please continue to talk to me so I can pretend I have friends. (JK. But seriously, please review!)**

**95 reviews already (insane): go on dearies, get the 100th on this chapter, I dare you! ;)**

**Until next time, when there will be actual plot development! (IKRT hold on to your hats)**


	26. Chapter 26

**As promised, plot development! (IKRT, in this story?! Whaaaat!?) It's not the one I intended, that's next chapter, but I just kind of ran with this idea when I thought of it. I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: Pfft still no.**

* * *

Every single one of Éponine's friends was busy on the fifteenth of November. She and the girls (Cosette, Chetta, Sylvie and Sylvie's sister, who was to be the maid of honour) were going shopping for their bridesmaid's dresses, while Gavroche and Les Amis were running a protest against changes to the justice system on a busy Saint-Michel street, which was, unusually, going to be attended by all the men – normally at least one was at work.

Everyone had stayed at their apartment the night before, to plan and prepare. Despite their very early morning start, Éponine was already awake and wished them luck as they went. They all knew there was potential for trouble with this protest, as they were staging it in a notorious area for gangs – Éponine knew it well – and a large crowd would be too much for any thief or conman worth his salt to resist. They were taking the risk as the busy streets would also draw in more support and be more effective in getting their message across.

She gave Gavroche a big, squeezing hug and spoke to all the lads as they piled out the door, hands full of banners and speeches and snacks. Little Gav promised to look out for any sign of their parents, the Patron-Minette or Azelma, but told her he'd probably be too busy being a hero to see anything. In his typical optimistic, joking way, Courfeyrac laughed as she told him to be careful. 'I'd rather be in my position than yours today, Pony… enjoy dress shopping. Don't kill anyone, even if they make you wear pink!'  
She scowled at him, but couldn't supress the smile that played at the corners of her mouth.

Enjolras was the last out the door, his curls wild around his determined face, a bright red hooded top under his dark green bomber jacket. He was going to walk out with just a nod to her, but she grabbed his arm as he passed her, so he turned around and met her piercing gaze.

'Look after Gavroche.' Her voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. 'For me.'  
He held her gaze for a while then nodded. They stood there, just staring at each other, neither of them speaking, until Éponine broke the eye contact to look at his jacket.  
'You look better without that.' She said quietly.  
Enjolras was confused, and whispered 'what?'  
Éponine rolled her eyes at him, and then pushed the jacket off his shoulders. He let her take it off completely, watching her face closely for some sort of clue as to what was going on, but it never came and he was left thoroughly confused.  
Éponine blushed a bit at his gaze, and then said 'The red. It's more memorable… anyway, good luck.'

And with that she turned away to go into the kitchen without another word.

* * *

She'd thought Courfeyrac was joking earlier, but now she wasn't so sure. After what seemed like days of trying on hundreds of dresses, of all shapes and sizes and colours and styles, she was exhausted, and really just hoped Sylvie would pick one soon, as she wanted to go home and see the guys. It must be nearly night-time now, right?

She checked her watch: half past one. _I swear to God time is going backwards. This is hell._

Sylvie's sister, who was called Grace, also turned out to not be nearly as nice as Sylvie herself. She barely spoke to any of them except Sylvie, except to criticize: Musichetta was told she needed to lose weight or risk being the fat bridesmaid, Cosette was told she was too pale and needed a spray-tan and some 'decent' makeup, and Éponine was ignored completely until a short, tight dress revealed the strapping on her legs and ribs, which would 'have to go. This is a _wedding_. You'll look like some sort of tramp'. Sylvie looked mortified, but both Musichetta and Éponine were very good, biting back their angry retorts. Cosette, being Cosette, just agreed with what Grace said, even claiming she would be overshadowed by the other beautiful bridesmaids anyway. _God damn, you are too NICE, Cosette._

In desperate need of a moment's peace, Éponine was pretending to look through a rail of dresses at the other end of the shop to the others, when she heard a screech from directly behind her which caused her to jump almost a foot in the air.  
'Sylvie! Here! It's perfect!' It was Grace, who barged past her to hold up the dress that Éponine had just been pretending to look at. The others hurried over to look, as Éponine supressed a groan.

It was pink. Not just pink: hot pink. Bright pink. It had a halter neck and a bow fastening on the back, and looked as though it would fall to around knee-length. The dress was beautiful, but _PINK_?! Courf and Gav were going to die laughing if they saw her in this.

Unfortunately for her, none of the other girls seemed to agree with her feelings on the pink dress – even Musichetta, who was normally on her side because it clashed with her hair, was cooing over it. Within minutes, dresses were brought out in their sizes, and Éponine was pushed into a changing room and told to put it on.

Once it was on, even she had to admit it looked pretty good. It hugged her tiny waist, showing off the slight curves that she had developed over the past few months. She even looked taller in it. Sylvie peeped past the curtain and squeaked, pulling her out into the corridor where all the bridesmaids were congregated, looking radiant. _Damn it. She's going to pick this one, isn't she?_

'I think we might have found it!' beamed Sylvie.

_Ah, fuck._

* * *

Enjolras was on fire. His speech had been met with an uproarious cheer, and Courfeyrac's was going just as well now, with the huge crowd – far bigger than expected, there must be 250 people out there – all engaged in what they were saying and shouting approval. It really felt like they were getting somewhere, this could really make a change!

He was stood on the side of the makeshift stage (wooden crates piled up) with Combeferre, Marius and Joly, while many of the other Amis were in the crowd, talking to people. One of these was Grantaire, who had Gavroche was on his shoulders, shouting along and pumping everyone up: what a little showman that kid was! Enjolras turned to point this out to Ferre and Joly, but when they looked again, Gavroche was nowhere to be seen.

Oh well, he'd explain later. For now, there was protesting to be done!

* * *

He'd know that guy anywhere.

From his position as King of the Castle, on R's shoulders, he could see everyone. Men. Women. Children. His buddies from the elephant were all there – even Jacques and the 'baby', Georges, a bright-eyed little blonde orphan, who was only 4, were in the crowded street. Then again, that was probably just so they could nick stuff out of people's pockets.

But this guy… this guy caught his eye. He demanded to be noticed, from the stylish clothes he wore, to the artistically tousled dirty blonde hair, and the way he held himself. He was leaning casually against a wall at the side, watching the protest calmly, apparently searching the stage for someone. To Gav's relief, the man didn't seem to have noticed him yet.

He frantically hit Grantaire's head, shouting 'GRANT!' The young man picked him up and placed him down in front of him, shouting 'WHAT'S WRONG, 'VROCHE?' into his ear.  
'HAV YA GOT YA PHONE ON YA?'  
'YEAH, WHY?'  
'TEXT ÉP! TELL 'ER SOMMAT'S WRONG AND SHE NEEDS TO GET HOME!'  
'WHAT'S HAPPENING, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?'  
'COURSE! JUST TEXT HER!'  
'OK… DON'T GO RUNNING OFF!' Grantaire looked worried, and pulled out his phone to text Éponine.  
'I WON'T!' Lies. Gavroche immediately ran off into the crowd, ducking through legs, squeezing past people, heading for where he had last seen Jacques and Georges. He found them quickly, grabbed George's hand and pulled him into a side street which was clear of people, Jacques close behind him, grinning. 'Gavroche! We saw ya up there, ya famous!'  
'Alright, alright, I need ya help'  
'What's up?' squeaked Georges.  
'I reckon I saw a bloke I don't wanna see, an' that's bad news, but I need t' make sure, right?'  
'What's he look like?'  
'We're not lookin' for 'im, we know he's 'ere, I'd know 'im anywhere. We're lookin' for Thénardier, or any of that lot, right? An' don't let 'em see ya!'  
'Gotcha… meet ya back 'ere, right?'  
'Yeah. Thanks lads!'  
They shared a grin, and then darted out into the crowd.

* * *

Éponine was on the metro home with Chetta, Sylvie and Cosette (Grace had left them immediately after the dresses had been bought) by the time she got the text.

**Pony – go home, now. Something's wrong. Rxox**

She gasped and nearly dropped her phone on the floor, an action which didn't escape the eagle eye of Musichetta.

'What's wrong, Éponine?'  
'It's R, he just texted saying something's wrong and to go straight home.'  
Cosette said cheerfully 'that's lucky, we're going there now!' but Éponine ignored her, meeting Sylvie's worried gaze.  
'What will you do?' she asked.

Éponine paused. She should go home: that's what R had said, there was clearly nothing she could do, she knew everyone would look after Gav and they could look after themselves well enough. But she wouldn't relax, and she knew it. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to one of them and she could've stopped it. She had no choice, not really.

'I'm going to them, I'll get off at the next stop, where are we? I'll look after everyone, you all go back to mine, here's the keys.' She fished them out of her pocket and handed them to Sylvie. 'It's easiest to get off at Mabillon. Look after yourselves; keep the door locked and the windows shut. There's plenty of food and stuff in… can you take my dress?'  
'I will' said Cosette, who sounded terrified. She handed it over, and gave her a reassuring smile.  
'Everything's going to be fine. I'll see you later, ok?' The train pulled to a halt at Rue de Bac station, and Éponine moved as quickly as she could to get off the train and platform and onto the street. Once she was up there, she ran as fast as she could towards Saint-Michel, hoping everything would be fine when she got there.

* * *

Gavroche had spotted Babet and Claquesous lurking and was starting to get really worried. He looked around for Jacques but the crowd was too tall and he couldn't see anything. Fighting his way forward, he tried to reach Courfeyrac, but before he could, a shot rang out. As everybody panicked, he was lost in the sea of people, unable to get to any Amis or even see what was happening. His stomach hurt, but he didn't know why and it was making him want to cry, but he couldn't look down to see what had happened. Nobody was sparing him a glance, despite his shouting. He was trapped.

Jacques weaved through the crowds with ease, his skinny frame perfect for sneaking through. He hadn't seen Thénardier or any of that lot, so he was feeling pretty relaxed as he made his way back towards the side street. He turned for a second to check Georges was ok – the kid was only 4, after all – but couldn't see him anywhere. _Ahh, piss it. _He went back where he had come, moving deep into the middle of the crowd, shouting Georges' name, butbefore he could spot him, he heard a gun go off, and felt a sharp pain in his left leg. Injured and disorientated, he stumbled through the panicking, fighting crowd, bumping straight into Gueulemer - that explained a lot – before everything went black and he fell to the floor.

Georges was terrified. He couldn't see a thing, he'd lost Jacques and Gavroche, and he didn't recognise anybody. Nobody seemed to notice him, a tiny waif of a boy under all their feet. He'd seen Brujon, one of the men he was supposed to be looking for, but didn't know what to do or who to tell. He was very, very scared. All of a sudden, he heard a loud bang, and everything exploded around him.

* * *

Grantaire looked up from sending his text and swore loudly: Gavroche had disappeared. He was going to kill the little shit for running off, where the hell was he? Out of nowhere, a shot rang out near him, and the people around him went mental: people were screaming and running and fighting, and his hung-over brain could barely tell people apart as they frantically moved past him and bumped into him. _Damn it, where's Gav?_

'GAVROCHE?! GAV?! WHERE ARE YOU?!'

* * *

Courfeyrac could see what was going on from his vantage point on centre stage. The shot had triggered the biggest fight he'd ever seen - at least 30 men were involved and more were joining in all the time: he spotted Bahorel going wild right in the centre. People were screaming and running, shouting for the police, blind to anything in their way. He looked around for Les Amis, and could account for them all, but Gavroche… he couldn't see him.

'GAVROCHE?! GAVROCHE!' He yelled at Enjolras and Marius who were stood, flabbergasted beside him to 'HELP ME FIND HIM!' The men jumped into action, elbowing through the crowds in search of the little urchin.

'GAVROCHE?!'

* * *

**longest one yet, and one of the most action-packed haha!**

**100 reviews guys, you did it! I am so humbled and grateful and... just thank you. Thank you for all your support, reading, reviewing, favouriting, following... you're the best. I LOVE YOU! Please keep it up, you make my day when you do!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Wow, guys, the response to that last chapter was incredible! You're all so nice to me, I love you!**

**Forgot to mention last time, special mention to Sliverloc303 for reading the whole thing from the beginning and then reviewing - seriously good effort, thank you so much! That must have taken ages! If there's anybody else out there who's read everything in one sitting, let me know, that's incredible!**

**Anyway, none of you are interested in this bit...**

**DISCLAIMER: I'm not Victor Hugo. I do love the Hunchback of Notre Dame, though. And Les Mis, obviously.**

* * *

Éponine heard the shot and the screams as she rounded a corner, not far from the protest, and the sudden panic seemed to give her wings. Fighting to get past the crowds of people running around like headless chickens, she sprinted towards the top of the street, where Enjolras had mentioned they'd be.

From the crowd she heard a shout of 'GAVROCHE?! GAV?! WHERE ARE YOU?!'' Craning her neck, she spotted the dishevelled dark curls of Grantaire, and she moved as quickly as she could towards him. Once she was there, they stood closely together and shouted in each other's ears over the noise of the crowd.  
'GRANT!'  
'PONY! IS GAV WITH YOU?'  
'NO, HE'S WITH YOU! HAVE YOU LOST HIM!?'  
'HE WAS RIGHT WITH ME AND I TOLD HIM TO STAY BUT HE RAN OFF!'  
'SHIT!'  
'I'M SORRY!'  
'WHERE'S ENJOLRAS? HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING HIM!'  
'I DON'T KNOW'  
'FUCK FUCK SHIT BUGGER TWAT COCKFACE! WE HAVE TO FIND HIM!'  
'I'LL TAKE HIM TO THE STAGE IF I DO, YOU'LL BE ABLE TO SEE THERE!'  
'THANKS!'

They shared a worried look and then started to beat their way through the people, shouting for Gavroche as they went.

* * *

'GAVROCHE!? GAVROCHE!?'

Enjolras couldn't see him anywhere – he couldn't see a thing in this melee. The skirmish in the middle of the crowd had turned into a full-on brawl, with men fighting tooth and nail all around him. _Damn it, I wanted passion not aggression! All this fighting among ourselves won't help anybody except the government, it gives them an excuse!_

'GAVROCHE!?'

Still alone in the crowd, Enjolras had a sudden thought.

'_Éponine is going to MURDER me.'_

As he thought this, he spotted a tiny figure lying on the ground. _GAVROCHE! _ He pushed the people between them out of his way and crouched next to the small boy he had seen, protecting him from the crowd with his body.

The boy was unconscious, his face peaceful under his straight, dark brown hair, and a deep wound in his skinny little leg. He was dressed in old, ragged clothing, several sizes too large for him, and was barefoot. It wasn't Gavroche, but he needed help, so Enjolras gently picked him up – he was making a habit of this, and took him to the stage, out of the way of the crowd. There was precious little Enjolras could do to help, but he would at least be safe here until Joly was available. With one last look back to check the boy was all right, Enjolras re-entered the fray to search again for Gavroche.

'GAVROCHE?!'

* * *

'GAVROCHE!?'

She was virtually hysterical, frantically searching for her brother in all the commotion, when suddenly a thin, long-fingered hand grabbed her arm from behind and pulled her back. She screamed in shock, but the breath left her completely when she saw who it was.

'Hello, Nina.'

* * *

Considering he was in a crowd of people he didn't know, Grantaire seemed to find his friends pretty often. First he bumped into a horrified Jehan, then a heavily bruised Bossuet, who told him that Feuilly and Bahorel were right in the heart of the fighting. He told them both to head for the stage and look out for Gavroche or any of Les Amis on the way, then continued his search.

He thought he saw Gavroche's golden curls, and was about to shout when suddenly, sirens filled the air. _Oh, no._

* * *

'Montparnasse…' she breathed. Her childhood friend turned glamorous assassin smirked down at her, his hand still locked on her arm.  
'Long time no see' he replied smoothly.

She was so confused… what did he want? Why was he here? Did this mean her father was here? Did he have Gavroche?!

'Is… is this you? Did you start this?' she demanded, gesturing to the ruckus in the street around them.  
'I'm hurt you'd assume that' he teased her, mock shock on his handsome face.  
'ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION'  
'All right, all right… no, it's not me. Think the Patron might be involved though.'  
Her stomach dropped like a stone. 'My Pa?'  
'No. He's not here.'  
'Thank fuck for that… listen, 'Parnasse, I really need to find Gav, have you seen him?'  
Montparnasse looked confused and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as the air exploded with sirens. Their eyes met, and they understood each other instantly, without having to say a word. _We have to get out of here.  
_'I can't leave Gav, I have to find him!' she was despairing now, how could she get everyone together and out of there before the police got them all.  
'It should be easy now, everyone's scattering… Meet me later. My cemetery. Midnight. I need to talk to you.'  
She nodded and replied 'If you see Gav, send him to the stage!', but Montparnasse was gone. He'd disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

Gavroche heard the sirens and panicked. The crowd started to disperse as people ran from the police, allowing him to see around him a bit better. He spotted Marius and ran towards him, shouting his name in relief.  
'GAVROCHE! Thank God! Come with me to the stage, everyone's beside themselves!' He grabbed the man's hand and they ran, but were intercepted by Combeferre before they got there.  
'We need to get out of here, head for my place, stay out of the way of the Police.'  
'Got it'

* * *

Between Combeferre's directions to everyone he saw, and Les Amis' common sense, most of them were gone within a few minutes of the arrival of the police. Éponine was the last to leave, along with Ferre, who told her Gavroche was safe.

The pair reached their apartment at around half four, bursting through the door and collapsing against it as they caught their breath from the long run. Their kitchen and living room were filled with people, all busy: Cosette and Marius were trying to calm down a hysterical Jehan, who was crying on the sofa into a very uncomfortable-looking Enjolras' shoulder; Feuilly, Bahorel and Bossuet were sat on the kitchen benches, having their bruises and other minor injuries tended to by Sylvie and Musichetta; Grantaire was drinking silently in the corner; Joly was bent over small bodies laid out on the kitchen table, assisted by Courfeyrac. The sight of Joly snapped Éponine back into action and she shouted 'GAVROCHE!' and darted over to the kitchen. She nearly fell over when she saw not only Gavroche, but Jacques and another small boy lying there, receiving treatment. Gavroche grinned at her when he saw her, and she stroked his hair and almost burst into tears with relief. Once she recovered from the shock, she asked 'what have you been doing?!'  
'Don't worry, he's fine. Well, he's been shot, but it just grazed his stomach, and didn't do too much damage, so he'll be all right.' Joly reassured her as he worked on Jacques' leg, picking out pieces of glass.  
'SHOT!? Dammit Gavroche, I told you you shouldn't go and now look!'  
'I'm fine, quit fussin'!'  
'Oh God, I'm going to kill you!' She kissed his head softly, leaving her lips pressed against his hair for a second as she closed her eyes with relief. _He's going to be fine…_

Combeferre came over and started to help Joly, taking the pulse of the tiny boy she didn't recognise. He couldn't be older than five; he was so tiny, laid out on that table. His eyes were closed and he was showing no signs of moving.  
'It's really weak, Jol' Combferre informed the young medical student, worriedly.  
'I thought it might be. How's his breathing?'  
'Shallow, laboured. What happened to him?'  
'I think he's been trampled. He hasn't woken up since Courfeyrac found him on the street, curled up unconscious. Keep an eye on his breathing for me, please.'  
'Is it Georges? Is he ok?!' Gavroche tried to sit up and see, but Éponine pushed him back down gently. She met Joly's eyes and saw the deep sadness in them which told her Georges wasn't ok. And he wasn't going to be.  
'Joly's trying his hardest, Gav, but Georges is very hurt…'  
'What 'bout Jacques, is he ok?!'  
'He should be fine' confirmed Joly. 'Just some flesh wounds from broken glass. There's a whole bottle in this leg, it's like someone smashed it on him deliberately. I sedated him, he kept kicking me in the face… we'll have to ask him when he wakes up.'

Just at that moment, Enjolras walked over to see if he could help in any way. Filled with a sudden fury, Éponine burst out 'YOU?! Don't you think you've done enough?!'  
The room fell silent. Even Jehan's sobbing stopped.  
'I don't know what you mean, Éponine.' Enjolras replied, calmly.  
'OH, you've FORGOTTON, have you?!' She stood up. 'I ASKED YOU SPECIFICALLY TO LOOK AFTER GAVROCHE AND YOU SAID YOU WOULD, YOU GAVE ME YOUR WORD!'  
'I actually just nodded, but –'  
'OH WELL I SUPPOSE IT'S HIS OWN FAULT HE GOT SHOT THEN!** SHOT**, ENJOLRAS! BY A FUCKING GUN!'  
'That's not what I'm saying at all –'  
'WELL THAT'S FUCKING LUCKY BECAUSE IT'S YOUR FUCKING FAULT. YOU WANTED YOUR LITTLE PROTEST SO YOU CAN PLAY THE HERO EVEN THOUGH THOSE LAWS AREN'T EVEN YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM'  
'They're EVERYONE'S problem! And I don't want to sound like I'm not truly sorry, because I am, but Gavroche is FINE!'  
'YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING DICKHEAD, HOW IS GETTING SHOT **FINE**?! HOW IS JACQUES' LEG GETTING FILLED WITH GLASS **FINE**?! LITTLE GEORGES MIGHT NOT WAKE UP ALL, IS THAT **FINE** TOO?! I HOPE YOU'RE REALLY PROUD OF YOURSELF. YOU'VE MADE A BIG CHANGE FOR SOCIETY HERE, ENJOLRAS. THERE'RE NOW FAR LESS STREET KIDS KNOCKING AROUND NOW. BECAUSE THEY'RE ALL FUCKING INJURED BECAUSE OF YOU!'  
'It was going well before that fight broke out!'  
'I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!'  
'YOU SHOULD GIVE A SHIT! EVERYONE HERE GIVES A SHIT! GAVROCHE GIVES A SHIT, AND THAT'S WHY HE WAS THERE! DON'T YOU THINK I HATE MYSELF FOR WHAT'S HAPPENED TO GAV AND THESE KIDS AND MY FRIENDS? BECAUSE I DO!'  
'GOOD, BECAUSE IT IS 100% YOUR FAULT!'  
'That's not entirely fair Éponine' Combeferre cut in. 'Enjolras never forced any of us to go. We were there because we wanted to be, because we care'  
'GAVROCHE IS **NINE**. HE DOESN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT THESE FUCKING LAWS MEAN! HE WAS THERE TO BE ONE OF THE FUCKING BIG BOYS!'  
'OI, I'M NOT STUPID!'  
'HE UNDERSTANDS MORE THAN YOU GIVE HIM CREDIT FOR, HE'S AT THE MEETINGS, HE KNOWS!'  
'HE SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN INVOLVED AT ALL! HE'S A FUCKING KID!'  
'OI!'  
'I REGRET IT NOW, OF COURSE I DO! BUT HE'S FINE, SO FOR NOW CAN WE JUST CALM DOWN AND WORK OUT WHAT TO DO NEXT?!'  
'CALM DOWN!? MY BABY BROTHER HAS BEEN SHOT!'  
'I KNOW, BUT –'  
'BUT NOTHING! THIS WAS YOUR FIGHT ENJOLRAS, BUT INSTEAD OF **YOU** GETTING WHAT WAS COMING TO YOU FROM THAT CROWD, THREE LITTLE KIDS HAVE GOT IT. I WISH IT WAS **YOU** LAYING HERE ON THE TABLE IN GAV'S POSITION, SO YOU COULD TELL ME THAT WAS 'FINE'. BECAUSE MY BABY BROTHER DESERVES FUCKING BETTER!'  
Enjolras was visibly hurt by these words and had no response. Éponine had never been so angry, and she held his gaze fiercely, feeling the fire burning in her gut. There wasn't a sound in the room.

'Guys… Georges isn't breathing anymore.' Combeferre said softly. Everyone turned to look as Joly took the tiny boy's pulse, then looked at Combeferre and shook his head. Cosette, Sylvie and Jehan burst into tears, the girls in the arms of their respective partners, and Jehan alone on the sofa. Courfeyrac moved over to comfort him, though was visibly upset himself. Musichetta buried her head into Bossuet's shoulder, who wrapped his arms around her. Grantaire put his bottle of beer down and put his face in his hands. Bahorel looked like he wanted to punch something. Combeferre and Joly stood helplessly next to Georges' body.

Éponine broke eye contact with Enjolras and looked at the floor for a second, then said simply 'well. There it is. I hope you're proud of yourself.' She turned away to take Gavroche's hand and squeezed it, wiping away his silent tears with the other hand.

* * *

**:(**

**Please review, I'm interested to hear your responses to this one**


	28. Chapter 28

**Back again! Before I start I have 3 things to say:**

**1. Thank you all SO SO MUCH for the responses to the last chapter. I've never felt so flattered, humbled and proud all at the same time, you are all truly fabulous. Tons of love for you all 3**

**2. To all the guests who review: thank you! I'm sorry I can't reply to you all individually, but this A/N is already pretty long, but I really appreciate you all reading and reviewing, so thank you again! Guest MVP goes to Brooke, who read the whole thing in one sitting at 3am - wow! Thank you! That's so kind of you, and I'm glad you like it, but seriously girl, get some sleep, it's way more important! (The irony as I sit typing this at five to four in the morning is not lost on me... sorry. I'm a hypocrite)**

**3. To CrazyJulz16, thank you lots for not only the longest, but the most intelligent and thoughtful review I've ever received. Thank you thank you thank you! No offence everyone else, I appreciate all reviews, you know that, but this review was actually better than the chapter, so I had to give it a special mention.**

**ANYWAY, irritatingly long A/N over, on with the (also long) chapter!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Les Miserables, Harry Potter, Cinderella, or The Valley of Adventure. My copies of all four are in not much better shape than Éponine's though, because they are so brilliant, so I highly recommend everyone reads them!**

* * *

Grantaire and Combeferre took Georges' tiny body to Père Lachaise, a cemetery across town. The manager there was an old drinking buddy of Grantaire, and said he would bury Georges without alerting the authorities, and give them indefinite rent of the plot for free. This was a huge relief to Les Amis as they had no idea what to do with the body of a child, which they had no reasonable explanation for having. They all chipped in for a headstone: it would be cheap, but it was better than leaving the poor kid in an unmarked grave. They planned with the manager to have a funeral in two days' time.

Georges' death, and Éponine's outburst at Enjolras had made the atmosphere in the apartment fairly horrible, and most of Les Amis didn't stay long. By the time Éponine had put Gavroche to sleep in her bed, and Jacques in Enjolras's, Combeferre had come home and gone to bed, and there was only her and Enjolras left awake in the apartment. Keen to avoid any awkward conversations, she grabbed her books from her room, and then sat on the sofa in the living room, wrapped in a blanket, with her feet up on the seat in front of her, reading.

It worked for a while and he left her alone, until about half past ten, when he walked out of the kitchen purposefully, and stood in front of her.

'Éponine… can we talk?'  
Éponine didn't even look up from her book. She didn't trust herself not to cry or explode if she looked at him, so she didn't. 'I think I've said everything I need to say.'  
'Well, I haven't, so… please?'  
'Fine' she snapped. She folded over the page of her book and placed it beside her on the sofa as she prepared herself for a very quiet fight. (Getting Gav to go to bed had been hard enough the first time, there was no way she was waking him up. No matter how angry she got.) 'What do you want to say?'  
'You were right.'  
_What?! _She didn't know what she had been expecting him to say, but it wasn't that. He seemed to be waiting for a response, but she thought she might cry, so she just kept her eyes firmly on her knees and said nothing.  
'I don't regret the protest today. I really believe I can help people, make a difference. But I agree with you… it is my fault. Georges, Gavroche… all of it, it's completely my fault. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me, and I should have looked out for him, like I promised. I have no excuse except that I was too caught up in the moment, and the cause and Patria to notice what was going on around me. I will regret that until the day I die, and I know that you hate me right now, as you have every right to, but you cannot possibly hate me as much as I hate myself. No punishment you can come up with will hurt me as much as the memories of Jacques' screaming, or the pain in Gavroche's eyes, or Georges' dying breaths will hurt me every day for the rest of my life. I am truly, truly sorry.'

The pools of tears in her eyes were threatening to spill out onto her cheeks at his words. Despite her head telling her to shout and scream, punch him and kick him, _he deserves it for leaving Gavroche_, in her heart, she believed him. She believed he was sorry, because she could hear the pain in his voice as he talked. She believed he would regret it forever. She believed he would be haunted by the memories, because she was haunted by her own, and knew how it felt.  
'Jesus, Éponine, can you say something? Or even just look at me?' Enjolras' voice was thick with emotion and desperation.  
She lifted her head to look him in the eye, just as the tears spilled down her face and the first sob wracked through her body. As she met his gaze, she saw his heart break: her tears were clearly a step too far for him to deal with. On an impulse, she jumped up off the sofa and wrapped him in a tight hug, her arms around his waist as heart-wrenching sobs shook her body. Initially, Enjolras stiffened, but after a second, he relaxed, and gingerly put his arms around her.

* * *

They stood like that for a while; completely still, with Éponine pouring her heart out into his chest. He screwed up his eyes, rested his chin on her head and held her more tightly as his shirt began to soak through with tears. Neither of them said a word, or broke the embrace, even when Éponine's weeping reduced to sniffles and silent tears. They both just needed to be held.

Once she had stopped crying completely, she pulled away. She sniffed, then said softly 'I'm sorry, I've ruined your nice red shirt.'  
'Don't worry about it. Are… are you ok?'  
She seemed to consider this before answering, her voice husky and soft from the tears. 'Not yet. I'm still mad at you, Enjolras.' She sniffed and wiped her eyes, as his heart dropped further into his stomach. _What can I do? How can I make this right?  
'_I'm still mad, but I understand what happened. And Gavroche is going to be ok… I shouldn't have shouted at you like I did, it was out of order. I was just so… _terrified _that I would lose Gav. He's the only family I have, really – my parents suck and Azelma won't talk to me, and…' she looked down at the floor and whispered the end of the sentence. 'I was just scared I was going to be all on my own. Again.'

To this day, he couldn't tell you where his sudden courage came from, but he reached out and gently lifted her chin with his hand, so they were looking directly into each other's eyes. She blinked at him in confusion; her long, dark eyelashes were still wet and her chocolate brown eyes were cloudy from crying. He looked deep into them and said clearly, but softly: 'you will never be on your own again, Éponine. We're all your family, and we'll never abandon you. No matter how much you swear at us.'

Her already flushed face darkened even more at his words, or more likely the intensity with which they were meant. _Damn it, you've probably completely freaked her out. She's going to shout at you again, Enjolras, and it's completely your fault._ He released her chin from his hand, and let his arm drop awkwardly to his side.

'Will you sit with me?' she asked, suddenly. 'Only… neither of us has anywhere to sleep, and I don't want to be alone anyway.'  
'Of… of course.' She picked up her books and her blanket, then they sat down on the sofa, close enough so that they were almost touching.  
'Could you hold these for a second, please?' she asked, holding out three tattered, paperback books towards him. He took them, and she busied herself with the blanket, arranging it across their laps. Feeling awkward about their close proximity, he examined the covers of the books to distract himself. One was an apparently ancient copy of _Cinderella, _which had all but lost its cover, the second was a slightly less scruffy copy of Enid Blyton's _The Valley of Adventure_, with well-thumbed, yellowing pages, and the third was _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban._ She saw him looking and looked embarrassed, explaining 'I know they're just kids' books, but they're the only ones I have, and I couldn't leave them at the inn, I love them too much.'  
_SHE ONLY HAS THREE BOOKS?! WHAT DOES SHE DO ALL DAY?! _'These are the only books you have?'  
'Yeah… I couldn't afford to buy many, so I only bought my absolute favourites'  
His curiosity was peaked. 'Why these three?'  
'Well, first of all…' she reached over and gently took _Harry Potter_ from his hands. 'In this book, a lonely little kid gets to go to a big school of people like him, where everyone loves him. He thinks he's got nobody in the world looking out for him, but then he finds out that not only does he have a Godfather, there's his dad's other best friend as well. He even thinks he's going to get out of his horrible house for a while.' She paused. 'I guess I related to it quite a lot… tell you what, I could've used a magical Patronus charm back at the inn… I could just picture a big silver lion chasing my parents and all those lurky guys out, leaving me and Zelma and Gav alone – ooh, or whatever he used to blow his Aunt up. That would be fun… Have you read it?'  
'No, I don't really read fiction that much.'  
'You should, fiction's great.'  
'Have you read the whole series?'  
Her face lit up. 'THERE ARE MORE OF THEM?!'  
'Yeah, there are 6 others. This isn't even the first one, I don't think. Plus, there are movies.'  
'NO WAY.'  
'Yes way' he laughed. 'How have you missed this, it's the biggest franchise in the world'  
'How would I find out? My parents?!'  
'You went to school, didn't you?'  
'Yeah, sometimes. My school friends didn't really read though, they preferred smoking and making out behind the bike sheds.'  
He laughed, somehow not surprised. 'It's in the front cover, as well!' She flipped it open, showing him a large brown stain of an unidentifiable and probably unpleasant nature.  
'Never mind… what about these two?'  
'Let's see… ooh _Cinderella. _I actually found this book in a skip, and rescued it… another one I related to. Poor, innocent little girl is treated like a slave by her evil family, then a fairy godmother comes along to help her meet her handsome prince and leave forever.' She looked up into his face, laughing. 'I guess that makes you and 'Ferre my fairy Godmothers, then.'  
He chuckled 'but who's your handsome prince?'  
'Marius, obviously.'  
'Are you sure you're not talking about Grantaire? I bet he looks dashing at royal balls.' The image of Prince Grantaire Charming was so funny that they both fell about laughing, stifling their giggles with their hands.  
'You're so mean to poor old R, I bet he'd be a wonderful Prince Charming'  
_Sure he would. _'Whatever. Anyway, you're the furthest thing from an innocent little girl I can imagine'  
She mock punched him and said 'Cheeky! I could be all meek and innocent if I wanted!'  
'You'd be the worst servant ever, you'd tell the master to fuck off within about 10 minutes'  
Éponine fell about laughing again and said 'I guess you're right… last book, anyway. Oh, this is my favourite of all. _The Valley of Adventure'  
_'I've never even heard of it.'  
'I'm going to make you read it then, because it's brilliant. I don't want to spoil it, so I'll just tell you about my favourite bit, ok? You have to promise to read it.'  
_You still trust me to make a promise after today? _'Ok, I promise'  
'Well, these kids, right, they find this cave, and it's behind a waterfall, but it's all covered in moss and there's like a door made of ferns, so they've got this beautiful view of the waterfall but it's secret and safe and cosy, and nobody can find them. It's in like a faraway valley, as well, so it's doubly secret.'

He couldn't hold back a smile at her childlike enthusiasm, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the far-off lands and magic and princesses. In that moment, he had to remind himself she wasn't much younger than him, only four years, and she was the furthest thing from an innocent little kid he knew, because her face honestly could have passed for a ten-year-old's right then. Her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, dimples out… she looked hardly older than Gavroche, but at the same time… _REALLY hot._

_Wait, what did you just say?_

She cut off his train of thought by asking suddenly 'What's the time?'

He could feel a blush rising, and cleared his throat as he checked his watch, intensely glad she couldn't hear his thoughts. 'It's just passed half eleven, why?'  
'Really, we've talked that long?!'  
'Yep'  
'Oh god, I have to go!' She jumped up, looking frantically around for her jacket, phone and shoes.  
'What do you mean, go? You can't be going out at this time!'  
'I can and I am. Don't wait up; I don't know how long I'll be. You take the sofa; I'll be all right on the floor.'  
He was thoroughly confused now. 'But where are you going?!'  
She was at the door, pulling her shoe on. She turned around as she opened the door, smiling brightly at him. 'Don't worry about it. See you in the morning!'  
'Éponine, wait!'

But it was too late. She was gone. _What the DEVIL was that all about?!_

* * *

**You're probably all sick of me talking about me by now, so I'll keep it short: thank you for your reviews and favourites, please keep them coming, I love seeing all the different points of view, it's really interesting to me!**

**ALSO, those who mentioned Montparnasse in their reviews: next chapter, promise ;)**


	29. Chapter 29

**Sorry! I had a disney night with my best friend - never realised before how weird the Hunchback of Notre Dame is. What an over-reaction to a boner.**

**SPEAKING OF BONERS - some sexual content in this one. Nothing too explicit though, because I'm shy. And I don't want to up the rating.**

**Also, I went to see the Mortal Instruments film earlier - it's awesome! Oh Jamie Campbell Bower, I remember why I made you my Montparnasse...**

**Anyhow, long chapter ahoy...**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Les Miserables. Or Oasis. Then again, I wouldn't want to, the Gallaghers are seriously fucked up.**

* * *

She made her way quickly and quietly through the Paris streets, sticking to the shadows. The potential danger of what she was about to do had not passed her by; she was taking it on blind trust that Montparnasse wouldn't have told her father where she'd be, and he'd never been exactly trustworthy, had he? It was… curious that he suddenly wanted to talk to her, after all this time. _Well, they say curiosity killed the cat. Maybe it'll kill me, too._

Why was she doing this? She'd known 'Parnasse a long time, long enough to know that when people met him in dark places at night it didn't often end well for them. He said he needed to talk to her though – not wanted, _needed._ It had been a long time since he'd needed her for anything.

Éponine and Montparnasse had known each other since they were tiny children, even back when the Thénardiers had the old inn, and some money. As kids, they'd been inseparable, playing together, going to the same school together, even sleeping together most nights (not in that way). He'd been found as a child in Montparnasse cemetery – hence the name – and raised by nuns, until the age of 4 when the convent closed. He was a cute little kid, so got fostered easily, but he spent the next few years in various care homes and foster families, never staying in one place for long. He usually ran away from wherever he was sent; he told Éponine he felt trapped, living in one place. By the time he was 12, the state had given up on him, and he lived on the streets, often kipping on Éponine's floor in the new inn. He was a little older than her, but they were the best of friends, and told each other everything. They were each other's first kiss, and she even thought she was in love with him for a while, before she met Marius and knew what real love was. It was all pretty cute really, until it went wrong.

Turning the corner, she realised she was there: Montparnasse cemetery. She took a quick look around, but couldn't see anybody, so felt safe moving into the open. The gates to the cemetery are tall and strong, which always made Éponine smirk. _They're designed so bad guys can't sneak in at night and trash the place… pretty pointless. Bad guys can usually find a way in anyway._ Éponine's lithe form was well used to climbing walls, and the ivy covering these ones made it all too easy: she was standing among the tombs and gravestones in seconds. Once she'd dusted herself off and given her leg some time to recover from the shock of a hard landing, she made her way quickly to Samuel Beckett's grave, where they always used to meet. As expected, she saw a lean figure there waiting for her, his back resting against the taller tomb next to it, with his feet resting on Beckett's. He was wearing the same clothes as earlier: a dark grey V-neck t-shirt, a black leather jacket with a hood, black skinny jeans and large black boots. _We get it, you're a bad boy. Is all the black really necessary? _He must have seen her coming, because he called out 'I thought you weren't coming for a minute' as she walked towards him.  
She sat down next to him and put her feet up on the grave. 'So did I.'  
He laughed. 'Long time no see!'  
'Yeah, it's been a while.'  
'You finally left.'  
'I did.'  
'And got rid of your accent. Ashamed of old San Michel, are we?'  
'Rich, coming from you.'  
He laughed again. 'How's Gavroche?'  
'Depends. Who wants to know?'  
'I do.'  
'Just you?'  
Suddenly, Montparnasse stood up. He looked at her from above, clearly irritated. 'There's no point in us being here if you don't trust me. I'm not going to tell him where you are, Éponine, I know why you left that place!'  
She stared at her knees, lost in thought. _Should I trust him? Do I have any reason not to? He hasn't done anything to ME in years.  
'_And it's not like I ever do what your dad tells me anyway.'  
Definitely the wrong thing to say.  
Suddenly angry, she snapped back 'we both know that's not true!' Their eyes locked; hers dark and fiery, his pale and cold. Fire and Ice. Neither spoke for a moment, and she knew they were both remembering the same thing.

* * *

**It was 'Parnasse's 16th birthday, and Éponine was 14. She'd saved up all her money from pick-pocketing, and tips from the bar, to get Montparnasse a ticket to see Oasis, his favourite band, who were playing in Paris that day. Azelma and Gavroche's help had meant she'd even been able to get herself a ticket, so she was more excited than she'd ever been before to give him his present, unable to stop grinning and concentrate all day at school. On the day of his birthday, he came to the inn after school so she could give him his present, staying downstairs in the bar with her father while she ran to her room to retrieve it. She came back into the room to find it empty, and shouted for him. Her father answered from the back room, where she had never been allowed before. She walked in, curious and grinning, holding the tickets, only to have her father push past her and slam the door shut, leaving her and Montparnasse alone in the dark room. He banged loudly on the closed door, shouting 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LAD. YA NOT LEAVIN' UNTIL YER A REAL MAN!'**

**Éponine gave Montparnasse his present, and saw his eyes light up with happiness as he gave her a hug. She'd never forget what happened next.  
''NINA, YER THE BEST! I CAN'T BELIEVE YA GOT THIS! HOW DID YA AFFORD IT!? WAIT, I DON' CARE, JUST… THANK YOU!'  
'It's fine! We just need to get out of here, ask my Pa!'  
Montparnasse went suddenly quiet and said 'I already know how we get outta here.'  
'Brilliant! What are we waiting for?'  
Montparnasse had looked at his feet, then put his hands on her cheeks and looked her straight in the eyes. 'Éponine, I'm really sorry about this.'**

**He'd kissed her fiercely, harder than ever before. Initially she responded happily, her teenage heart thinking this was him telling her he loved her too. But it all started to go too fast for her: his hands were roaming her back, her boobs, her bum, pulling her clothes off, pulling his clothes off, and she tried to stop him, crying, pleading with him to stop it, but it was no use. They both lost their virginity, in a dark, damp room, while a bunch of creepy old men listened and cheered outside. She cried the whole time.**

**When he was done, he'd rolled off her and said 'We can go to Oasis now; yer dad'll let us out.' Angry, sore and distraught, she refused to even look at him, and lay crying on her side. In the end, he went by himself.**

**After that night, their friendship was never the same. Once her father knew she and Montparnasse had had sex, he said there was no problem with her doing her 'duties' in the back room every night ('S'not like ya savin' yasel' for marriage, is it, ya little slut?'). Montparnasse was never one of her visitors: he became a fully-fledged member of the Patron-Minette, killing a man for the first time just days later. It turned out he was pretty good at it, even enjoyed it, finding ways to make his killings stylish: he'd carve symbols into bodies, make his victims dress up in their best clothes before he killed them, that sort of thing. He got rid of his slum accent and started taking pride in his appearance. By the time Éponine was 15, he was virtually unrecognisable as the cheeky little kid who'd been her best friend.**

* * *

She looked at the floor again. He broke the silence first. 'You know I'm sorry about that, Éponine. I honestly regret it, I really do.'  
'It's ok.'  
'It's not.'  
'If it wasn't you, it would have been some fat old bloke. I should be thanking you.'  
'It shouldn't have been that way… not like that.' He sat down next to her, and pulled her chin up so she was facing him, the same way Enjolras had, just hours before. Somehow, this time, it felt different.  
They looked into each other's eyes, lost in their thoughts, their memories. Once again, Montparnasse was the first to speak.  
'I always meant to wait for you, you know.'  
She didn't know. She'd never known that.  
'I had it all planned out, for when you were older. I'd get a room in a real hotel, not tell your dad, so you'd get a night of luxury as well as… that.'  
Éponine felt the blush rising in her cheeks, and gave a small, sad smile. 'It couldn't have happened any other way, though.'  
'I guess not.'

It didn't make any sense, but somehow this admission broke through some of the walls she'd put up against him, and she felt herself starting to trust him again. And the more she thought about it, the more she decided she could: hadn't he always looked after her on jobs if he could? Hadn't she convinced him, many times, to abandon some jobs, or leave the odd person alive? Hadn't she thought of him at the Rue Plumet, thinking she'd be able to rely on him to call it off? Maybe it was time to let sleeping dogs lie and move on.

She cleared her throat with a small cough. 'Gavroche is fine. He got grazed by a bullet, but he's going to be ok.'  
He let go of her chin. 'I'm glad to hear it.'  
'Anyway… you wanted to tell me something?'  
'Oh, yeah. It's about Azelma.'  
Éponine's stomach did a backflip. 'Is she all right? Is she hurt? What's the matter?!'  
'I'm not sure, but she's not coping since you left. You can practically see through her, she's so thin. She barely eats, she drinks all the time, and your Pa's got her working all hours of the day and night.'  
'Front room or back?'  
'Both.'  
'Shit.'  
'Yeah.'  
'I tried to get her to come with me. She wouldn't leave.'  
'Just thought you'd want to know. Maybe it's time to try again.'  
'Maybe. Thanks, 'Parnasse.'  
'No problem, Nina.'  
'Nobody calls me that anymore.'  
'But you used to love it when I called you Nina! What about the adventures of Princess Éponina, and the dastardly, but devastatingly handsome Pirate Parnasse?!'  
She laughed, cringing 'oh GOD, shut up!'  
'I'm offended, Nina!'  
'SHUT UP!'  
'Nina, why must you hurt me in this way?!'  
'Don't make me call you Monty!'  
'You wouldn't dare.'  
'Try me.'  
Their eyes met again. This time hers were lighter, laughing. His were still the same pale, cold blue. Unchanging as ever.  
'So, I hear you've got yourself a cosy little position?'  
_What? _'Position?'  
'Yeah, with some fancy bourgeois guys?'  
I didn't know a friend was a 'position'. Then again, you've never had any, so I guess you wouldn't know…'  
He poked her in the ribs and she laughed again.  
'Is that all you are? Your Pa made it sound a bit more… _back room_ than that.'  
She tensed. 'What did he say?'  
'Something about sexual favours and food and board….'  
Suddenly furious, she launched a tirade about how her Pa had to ruin everything and make it weird when they were just her fucking friends and she wasn't shagging any of them and God, she wouldn't anyway and -  
'Not even the dashing Monsieur Pontmercy?'  
She was silenced. _How does he know? He always knows!_  
'Ahh… I think Pirate Parnasse has struck a nerve'  
'No.' _Great comeback, Éponine. _  
'Oh Niiiiina… you're keeping something from meeeee' he teased in a singsong voice.  
'NO, I'm not! And stop calling me that!'  
'I think you're shagging him.'  
'I am NOT!'  
'But you'd like to!' _Damn it. _  
'He's got a girlfriend!'  
'Liar!'  
'It's true! Remember Cosette?! The Lark?!'  
'The blonde we used to pretend was Ming when we played Defenders of the Earth?'  
'YES! THAT ONE!'  
'He's definitely not shagging her.'  
'He is!'  
'Prove it.' _How can I prove it?!_

There was only one way. On an impulse, she leaned forward and crashed her lips against his. She'd only intended a quick one, to prove she didn't like Marius – _Wait… she didn't like Marius? _– but once she started, she found she couldn't stop, especially when Montparnasse started to kiss her back. Eventually, they both had to come up for air, and she stood up, unsure of what else to do. Turning back to look at him, she found he was also on his feet, and they looked at each other for a second or two. She took it all in; the clothes, the tousled dirty blonde hair, the prominent jaw, and the high cheekbones. _Jesus, 'Parnasse got seriously hot.  
_He smirked at her stare, seeing the lust darkening her eyes. His remained as cold as ever.

'I believe you.'  
'Oh, shut up.'

And then they were kissing again; hot, breathy, open-mouthed kissing. The kind of kissing that doesn't stop at just kissing. He pressed her against the taller grave, one of his hands on the back of her neck, the other exploring her body. She felt the cold stone against her back as her t-shirt rode up, and arched herself against him to keep warm, their bodies pressed tightly together. In between kisses, he whispered 'Much as I'd like to do this here… there is a warden… and I do have an apartment down the street, if you want?'  
She nodded feverishly, and he took her hand and ran across the cemetery. They reached the high stone wall in seconds, and were over it quickly, breaking body contact for as little time as possible. After what seemed like no time at all, they were at the front door to his apartment block and he was struggling with the key as she kissed his jawline. Then they were up the stairs, and inside, and in his room.

He knew what he was doing, and she wasn't exactly a novice at this. The only difference was that both she and the guy were usually drunk, and on realising this, she felt suddenly a bit self-conscious – what if it was different sober? It was hard to concentrate for too long though, as the effect the lack of alcohol had was made abundantly clear very quickly… everything was clearer, sharper, and she felt it more strongly. Her inhibitions went with her clothes, and then there was nothing in the world but her and Montparnasse. Passionate and calculating. Fire and Ice.

It felt like it could last forever, but it didn't, and all too soon they were lying exhausted next to each other, as their mingled sweat cooled on their bodies and they fell asleep.

* * *

**Please don't hate me**

**Reviews have been very interesting, old Montparnasse seems to polarise opinions! Please keep reviewing to tell me what you think, especially of the last bit - I've never written anything like that before, so let me know how I did, please!**

**Love you all, of course.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables, or the Valley of Adventure. I do have a fez, though, and fezzes are cool.**

* * *

Enjolras woke up even earlier than usual that morning, with stiff joints and a thumping head from sleeping on the floor. He turned over, groggily, to look over to the sofa, wondering if Éponine was awake yet, and was surprised to find it empty, with the pillow and blanket he left out for her untouched. She mustn't have come home last night. That was strange. He wondered where she'd gone, what she'd been doing. What could be so important that she'd leave Gavroche? Was she all right? _Enjolras, you sound like an overprotective mother. She's tough. She'll be fine._

He walked into the kitchen for an aspirin and a cup of coffee, and then sat back on the sofa. In front of him on the table, sat the small pile of books Éponine had told him about last night. It was strange how that sort of thing kept happening; Éponine was a very private girl, particularly about her past, and yet twice now she had opened up to him about pretty personal things. As far as he was aware, only he knew about her old… career… at the inn: why would she tell him, but not Grantaire? And the books – she never gave such personal reasons for things, never talked about her emotions, past or present (except about Pontmercy, of course). It wasn't even that they were close – you could barely call them friends, most of the time. Éponine was certainly an enigma.

As he sat looking at the books sat there on the table, pondering his situation, a memory flashed across his mind.

_**She'd grinned at him, all sparkly eyes, rosy cheeks and dimples. 'You have to promise to read it!'  
'Ok, I promise'**_

He picked up _The Valley of Adventure _and flipped to the first page. _I'll just read a chapter or two._ It was only about 6am, and he _had _promised, after all.

* * *

Unlike Enjolras, Éponine had slept deeply on a comfortable bed, so woke up later than usual, and much less stiff. Her leg was sore, after being used so much the day before, and twinged painfully as she moved it, but other than that she felt fairly bright and cheerful. This was strange, as Éponine was not usually a morning person.

She opened her eyes to find she was wrapped in unfamiliar dark grey sheets, but was otherwise completely naked. _Where the hell am I?! _Sitting up, she was confronted with an equally unfamiliar apartment: it was modern and tastefully furnished, but didn't look very lived in, like a hotel room. Glancing down at the bed beside her, she saw the lean form of Montparnasse sprawled out beside her, still fast asleep. _Oh. THAT'S where I am. _She smirked as more… specific moments from the night before crossed her mind. She reached over the side of the bed to pick her phone out of the pocket of her jeans, which lay haphazardly on the floor, along with some of the rest of her clothes. The lock screen showed the time (7:04) and two new messages, one from Musichetta and the other from Courfeyrac. She opened Musichetta's first.

**Babe, can you sing at the Musain tonight? I know it's tough with Gav and stuff, but it would be a massive help if you can… love you chick. M 3**

**Hey Pony, can you tell Gav me, R and Joly are coming to visit this morning, with presents? We'll be over about 8… if you make me bacon and/or eggs I may have to have sex with you there and then on the kitchen table as the others watch. Just saying. Courf xxx**

_Shit, Gavroche. 8 am?! I need to get home._ She jumped out of bed, and then walked quickly around the small apartment, picking up various items of clothing as she went: her things were strewn across the floor between the door and the bed, and were very crumpled as a result. _God, I hope nobody's up when I get back. I really don't want to have to explain this._ As she started to dress herself, she heard a husky mumble from behind her.  
'Don't put those back on on my account'  
She smirked and turned to face him as she fastened her bra. He was lounged across the bed, somehow managing to look sexy as hell seconds after waking up. 'Sorry, need to get back. Gavroche. Amis. Breakfast. Long story.'  
'Amis?'  
'Yeah, the guys. My friends.'  
'Oh, the posh blokes.'  
She shot him a glare and pulled her t-shirt on. 'Be nice.'  
'I'm always nice!'  
This time she didn't even need to say anything, just raised an eyebrow.  
'Ok, fair enough. You off now, then?'  
'Yeah, I have to get back. I wanted to talk though… this probably shouldn't have happened, you know.'  
'I find the ones that shouldn't happen are usually the ones you regret NOT having. And I for one am especially glad last night DID happen, because if I had to describe it in one word, the word would be epic.'  
Éponine felt herself blush. 'Ok, it was… great, but definitely a one-time thing, ok?' If she was being honest, she was already starting to feel a little disgusted with herself that it happened in the first place, and that feeling usually only grew with time.  
'If you say so…'  
'I do.'  
'All right then. One time thing.'  
'Yep.' She pulled on her jacket, ready to go. 'I'll see you, then. Thanks for… everything.'  
'Wait, Éponine.' He jumped up, scrambled into some underwear and walked quickly towards her, stopping directly in front of her. 'Are you… are you ok?'  
_Yes and no. '_I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?'  
'You have a look in your eye like you're about to run for the hills and never return.'  
'No hill-based running. Promise. I do have to go, though.'  
'Of course. Sorry. Just… stay in touch, ok? That sounds like a weird, clingy boyfriend thing to say, but I don't mean it that way. I just… your dad's pissed, and you living with these guys won't help. Watch yourself, Nina.'  
'Please don't call me that.'  
'_Éponine, _then.'  
She sighed. 'All right, fine. Look, I'm singing at some café tonight… I don't know it that well, but apparently it's all right. Come along if you want. Meet some of the guys. If it proves to you that I am completely fine, and don't need… watching…'  
'Sounds awesome. Where is it?'  
'I think it's called the café Musain?'  
'I'll be there. Thanks, Ni- Éponine. I'll let you go for breakfast.'  
'Thanks.' She smiled, then turned on her heel and left the apartment without looking back.

* * *

He was so engrossed in the book, he didn't notice the apartment door open and close, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard 'Enjolras?' from behind him. Turning to look, he found himself faced with Éponine, dressed in crumpled versions of what she'd been wearing the night before, one eyebrow raised and a curious smirk on her face.  
'Is that _The Valley of Adventure?'_  
'…yes.'  
'I thought you didn't read fiction?'  
_I don't, and I have absolutely no reason to be halfway through YOUR book at this time in the morning. _'Well, I… I promised.'  
Her smile grew and she laughed a little. 'You did. It's fine you know, keep reading… I just need to get changed; Courf, R and Joly are coming for breakfast. Can you check Jacques for me? Might be an idea to wake Ferre as well.'  
'Of course… are you all right?'  
'Why wouldn't I be?' _Because you look like you slept in a hedge.  
_'You look… crumpled. Did something happen last night?'  
He wasn't sure what response he expected, but it wasn't a furious blush rising in her cheeks, or Éponine at a loss for words. After several garbled attempts at a sentence, she simply said 'I really don't want to explain… can we just pretend I was here all night, please?'  
_What the hell were you up to?! _'Yeah, of course.'  
'Thanks, Enj.' She turned to open the door to her room, and then suddenly swirled around. 'SORRY! Enjolras. I know you hate nicknames' she said, apologetically.

_I didn't even notice… Enj is fine, as long as nobody else calls me it, ever. _But she was gone before he could reply.

* * *

**Sorry, I know it's kind of short and not much happens**

**Better next time, hopefully**

**Thank you for all your feedback on the last chapter! It seems I have managed to surprise some of you... Muaahaha. Please continue to review, it makes my day! Anything at all is greatly appreciated, so thank you!**

**Much love, chickadees. Hasta la vista, baby.****  
**


	31. Chapter 31

**It's late, sorry! It's really long though, if that helps?**

**It's like half 4 here, I just got in from a night out - sorry for any grammar mistakes. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis. Or Evita. Or _What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?._ Or Every Avenue, or their songs. BASICALLY: NO.**

* * *

Éponine never got a chance to think about her awkward walk of shame encounter, because as she opened the door to her room, she found Gavroche jumping up and down on her bed, arms flailing wildly. He looked so happy; she couldn't hold back a grin.

'Morning! You're feeling better, then?!'  
'Yep! S'gonna take more'n a bullet graze to keep me down!'  
_So it would seem! _'Yeah, well, don't hurt yourself… Courf and a few others are coming for breakfast, so you'll want to change your clothes, hun.'  
He stopped bouncing immediately. 'ARE WE HAVING BACON?'  
Remembering Courf's text from earlier, Éponine felt a blush rise in her cheeks. 'Maybe. Maybe pancakes.'  
'PANCAKES?!' All of a sudden, Gavroche was a whirlwind of activity, rushing around all over the place. Before she even understood what was happening, he was changed, and taking spare clothes to Jacques in Enjolras' room.

She stood, alone in the doorway for a second, laughing to herself. _My brother is mental…  
_She quickly stripped off her wrinkled clothes and changed into clean ones, stopping to look in the mirror when she had done so. Other than her messy curls, springing out all over the place, she looked just about passable, so she pulled it up into a messy bun, uncovering her neck and shoulders.

_Oh, no._

A huge, glaring, purple splotch of a hickey covered one side of the join between her neck and collarbone, just high enough that a t-shirt didn't cover it. _DAMMIT MONTPARNASSE! _Furious, she pulled her hair back out of the bun, and tried to arrange her hair and shirt to minimise visibility. _If no-one notices that, it'll be a fucking miracle. I swear to God I will kill him later._

She headed for the kitchen to start making pancake batter, smiling at Jacques and Gavroche, who were gabbling at 100 miles per hour about pancakes to Enjolras, who looked confused, uncomfortable and a little terrified. It wasn't long until there was a knock at the door, and Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Joly all piled into the apartment, laden with boxes wrapped in newspaper. Gavroche and Jacques immediately set about ripping said newspaper off the boxes, revealing pastries, sweets, toys and even a couple of books. The noise level in the apartment rose to record levels as the boys whooped and shouted at each other excitedly.

Éponine and Grantaire shared an amused look across the carnage that was the living room. Courfeyrac came to stand beside her, and she shouted over the noise into his ear 'WHAT'S ALL THIS FOR?!'  
'TO KEEP THEM OCCUPIED AND YOU SANE.'  
_That's so sweet! _'THANK YOU!' she shouted.  
He couldn't hear her. 'WHAT?!'  
She considered shouting again, but the noise level rose further still as Jacques unwrapped a box of jam doughnuts. She winced, laughing, and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss Courf on the cheek. The gesture clearly surprised him, as he looked down at her questioningly, but she just mouthed 'Thank you.' He shrugged and then grinned, gesturing to Enjolras, who looked as though he had wandered into a war zone with no protection. Éponine had never seen such blind terror on a man's face, and immediately fell about laughing, holding onto Courf's arm for support.

Éponine cooked the pancakes and they all ate them together, chatting cheerfully about nothing in particular. Éponine couldn't help but enjoy spending quality time with a few of her friends, just chatting and eating: it was refreshing to be back to normal after all the dramatics of the day before. In fact, she would even go as far as to say she'd almost forgotten about the day before, until suddenly Grantaire shouted 'Ahhh!' and pointed at her, a shocked expression on his face. Everyone stopped and looked between R and Éponine, confused looks on each of their faces. Éponine raised a questioning eyebrow, but R simply said 'Pony, we need to talk. Now.' She shrugged at Joly, who looked almost worried, and followed Grantaire into her room, shutting the door behind her.

'R, what is this about?!' she asked.  
'YOU HAVE A HICKEY. A GIANT HICKEY. WHAT IS GOING ON?!' hissed Grantaire.  
'Shit is it that obvious?!' she lamented, rubbing her neck. 'I might have done a very stupid thing…'  
'What happened?!'  
'Well I saw an old… friend at the protest yesterday, who said he wanted to speak to me. So I met up with him last night, and one thing kind of… led to another and…'  
'OH MY GOD YOU GOT LAID'  
'Well… yeah.'  
Grantaire beamed, and wrapped his arms around her in a squeezing hug.  
'Grant… why are you…. Get off!' she laughed.  
'Ok, first thing's first. Marks out of ten?'  
She blushed. 'Much as I hate to admit it… like 9'  
'YESSSS!' he grinned.  
'This is weird, you know that, right?'  
'Yep. Second: why was it stupid?'  
'There's a lot of history… it's complicated.'  
'That's teasing, come on, tell me!'  
So she told him: about how they were like siblings, then pre-teen loves, then… complicated. '…and I hadn't spoken to him except to convince him not to kill someone in about two years. Then, out of nowhere he's there yesterday. And the subject came up when I met him and he was… apologetic. And nice. And… like the old 'Parnasse. The non-murdering one.'  
'Do you like him?'  
'No! Well… yes. No! I don't know. All I know is that I had the best sex of my life and half of me wants to do it again but the other half is PISSED that it happened at all.'  
'Pony, this is awesome news!'  
'…it is?'  
'YES! You're rebounding! Have as much life-altering sex with this guy as possible, babe! Look at it this way: have you thought about Marius yet today?'  
She realised with a start that no, she hadn't.  
'…exactly. You don't seem like you trust this guy, which seems fair enough, but if this is helping you get passed the whole Pontmercy thing, I am all for it. Have some FUN; you don't have to marry him. Screw around a little!'  
'Maybe you're right.'  
'I'm always right.'  
'You're like my slutty fairy godmother.'  
'YES! Hey, I want to meet this guy!'  
'He's erm… coming to the Musain tonight. But I think it's best if we pretend we don't go regularly… I still don't trust him.'  
'THIS IS SO EXCITING! Also, best explain this to the guys… especially Courf. You know how much of a blabbermouth he is.'  
'Thanks, good point…' the horrible image of explaining this to the guys… Marius. Courfeyrac. Enjolras. _Oh fucking hell, this is going to suck. _She cringed. 'This is going to be embarrassing, isn't it?'  
'Pfffft, no!' smirked Grantaire. After a pause, he asked cheekily 'is he hot?'  
'Oh God, yes.'

* * *

After what seemed like no time at all, but was in fact the entire day, the friends made their way to the Musain for the night, with Les Amis taking up their usual table upstairs. Éponine wasn't singing from 8pm, but at quarter past 7 heard a voice in her ear, from behind her say 'Hello Nina.'  
'I told you not to call me that!' she admonished, but was smirking. Turning her head slightly to say hi, she met the familiar cold gaze and crooked smile.  
'Hi.'  
'Hi.'  
She stood up to get the attention of Les Amis, as well as Musichetta, Sylvie and Cosette, who had joined them. 'Everybody! This is Montparnasse; he's an… old friend of mine. 'Parnasse, this is everybody.'  
'Hello everybody' he drawled.  
The response was a chorus of 'Hi!'s and 'Hello's, with the enthusiasm levels varying from the grinning Grantaire, to the indifferent and slightly bored-looking Enjolras. Happy that everyone had seen him, she muttered 'I need to warm up, come out the back?' quietly to him, getting a calm nod in return.

She took his hand and led him into the little kitchen (she almost laughed out loud, as she heard Courfeyrac exclaim 'I was wondering how this guy convinced Ép to sleep with him when I've failed, but now I get it, he's fucking beautiful!' He must've thought they were out of earshot… they weren't.) She closed the door behind them, then squeaked slightly in surprise as Montparnasse's lips were suddenly on hers again, soft but insistent. Before she could think, she responded, but after a minute had a sudden realization of what was going on and broke away breathlessly.  
'What are you doing? I said it was a one-time thing!'  
'Come on, Nina!'  
'Don't fucking call me that! Also, I meant it, this is a BAD idea. It's not going to end well for anyone.'  
'Jesus, Éponine, look on the fucking bright side, why don't you?'  
'Shut up!  
'Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to do it again.'  
She met his piercing gaze, but couldn't honestly say it.  
'I thought so.' 'Parnasse smirked, then leant back in for a kiss. She dodged him by leaning backwards, but her resolve crumbled when their eyes met again. She exhaled, and then snapped 'FINE. At least come into the storeroom, I am NOT getting interrupted.' Taking his hand again, she opened the heavy door that separated it from the kitchen. 'Also, you have like 20 minutes, tops. I need to warm my voice up. And STAY QUIET.'  
His smirk grew and he gave a mock salute. 'Yes Captain!'  
'At last, some fucking respect' she joked.  
'Shut your face.'

* * *

Marius was thoroughly confused. Éponine had been his friend for ages but she had never mentioned this bloke before… Mont-something? Oh, he knew this. Was it Montparnasse? Like… the tower, or the cemetery? Weird name. Anyway, she'd never mentioned him, which was a little irritating – she told him everything, they were really close! – and then they'd suddenly disappeared when he got here. He was horrified she'd been so blunt about her one-night stand earlier when she told them about pretending not to know the Musain; she should really be ashamed, sleeping around. She should try and find herself a real love, like he had with Cosette. Éponine had never seemed interested in love before, it was always him who had crushes, or lovers. She just helped him with his, rather than find her own: she was sweet that way, so helpful.

He was just pondering this, and about to share his thoughts with Cosette, when she and this bloke emerged from the kitchen, looking more dishevelled than when they entered. Éponine's hair, in particular, was wild. How odd. She headed straight for the microphone in the corner, whereas Mont-whatever came back over to sit with them, taking a seat next to Jehan, who looked a little in awe of him. They had started to talk a little, but Éponine's voice suddenly rang across the room, and the packed café-bar fell silent.

'Is this on? Ooh, sounds it. Sorry, I'm not very good at microphones.' She sounded kind of breathy and excitable. He hadn't realised she liked singing or performing that much. 'Anyway, hi everyone, my name's Éponine and I'll be singing a few songs for you this beautiful evening, thank you very much for coming down!'

She started by singing 'Another Suitcase In Another Hall' from one of Cosette's favourite musicals, Evita.

_I don't expect my love affairs to last for long__  
__Never fool myself that my dreams will come true_

Cosette was swaying along, smiling her beautiful smile. She loved this song. He'd never noticed that freckle under her eye before – he'd thought she had no freckles at all, but this was quite big, isn't that strange? He could never get over how perfect she was.

Anyway, the next song she sang was called 'What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?' which seemed like a strange choice to him, because it wasn't even December yet. He pointed this out to Cosette, she'd have something interesting to say on the subject, she always did, but she just shushed him and told him to listen. Marius was a bit upset by this, because as nice a singer as Éponine was, and she was good, he supposed – another surprise, she'd never said – he'd much rather talk to Cosette. Still, he'd do as he was told.

'Thank you, everyone. The next song is a little different to anything I've sung before, but I've always believed in being honest with my music and this one is… perfect. It's a rockier song than any of the others I've sung, it's by an awesome American band called Every Avenue, and it's called I Can Never Tell You No.'

The introduction kicked in, and Marius was a little startled by the volume. It was definitely louder than the others. He wasn't expecting that.

_I seem to want only what's bad for me  
I chase my everclear with nicotine.  
It's way too fun to ever quit  
and you're my favourite part of it…_

This seemed more like Éponine's sort of music. He was pretty sure she had an ACDC t-shirt, and this song was rockier than all that musicals stuff.

_But you're a bitch and I wish that I wasn't addicted to it  
Whiskey kiss, honey lips, what you do with those hips, I lose it!  
Just when I think I got control  
your body tells me that I don't  
and I know that you know  
that I can never tell you no…_

Marius caught Courfeyrac's eye, who smirked at him, then nodded at Mont-whatsit, wiggling him eyebrows. Wait, did he think that was who Éponine was singing about? Wait… was this guy the one she had slept with last night?! Had she mentioned that?!

_Hands on the stove and I can't let it go.  
You'd think I'd learn but the burn never gets old…  
And I know that I should give it up  
But maybe I'm not strong enough  
It's one step forward, two steps back  
I'm always gonna do this dance…._

That did sound quite sexual, he supposed. And she was certainly more active than usual, even jumping up and down and dancing as she sang the chorus again.

_But you're a bitch and I wish that I wasn't addicted to it  
Whiskey kiss, honey lips, what you do with those hips, I lose it!  
Just when I think I got control  
your body tells me that I don't  
and I know that you know  
that I can never tell you no…_

Perhaps Courfeyrac was right. How odd!

_That face, those eyes, your taste, your hair  
you can't kick, you can't quit, you gotta hit it again, and again, and AGAIN!_

She had her hands in her hair now, shaking her hips quite provocatively. Not very classy, Marius decided. Cosette would never behave in such a way.

_But you're a bitch and I wish that I wasn't addicted to it  
Whiskey kiss, honey lips, what you do with those hips, I lose it!  
Just when I think I got control  
You go and take off all your clothes…  
and I know that you know that I can never tell you no!  
I can never tell you no!_

Well. That was strange. Éponine seemed to be taking a break now, having a chat with a few people in the audience. He did notice she met that Mont-thingy's eyes and smirked before she did, though. Maybe Éponine was finally interested in guys! Shame it wasn't one of Les Amis, though. He much preferred them to this new guy. It didn't really seem like a good idea if she had to lie to him about a café, either – he still didn't really understand that. Never mind. He'd ask her about it later, he had a favour to ask anyway.

She did seem different today.

* * *

**Marius was really fun to be :L Might be terrible, let me know!**

**I will reply to your reviews and messages very soon: tomorrow, most likely, but right now I need some SLEEP! Thank you very much, please let me know what you think!**

**FurtherIllumination: Spongebob is welcomed and encouraged.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Me again!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis, Pizza Hut, Ready Brek, any of the Disney movies mentioned, AVPM, Every Avenue or Real Housewives. As though anybody thought I did.**

* * *

It kept happening; as passionate and unpredictable as ever. They did it in bathrooms, alleyways and parks, but mostly in various deserted apartments that Montparnasse 'found'. They never went back to the same place twice. Every time, she'd insist it was the last and Montparnasse would agree, but they both knew it wasn't. It was like an addiction: the crazy rush of pleasure and adrenaline was worth it at the time, but she hated herself intensely afterwards. Then every time she saw him she'd find herself wanting more.

She'd been surprised by the support she'd received about it – not just from Grantaire, either, but most of Les Amis. Musichetta asked her about it daily, lamenting that Joly and Bossuet would never be so spontaneous (after Éponine had told her about a particularly steamy encounter they'd had in a restaurant bathroom, 'Chetta had sighed 'Honestly, Ép, you'd think having two of them would up the odds of random sex in a Pizza Hut bathroom, but it really doesn't'). Combeferre and Feuilly kept hugging her and telling her they were proud of her for moving on from Marius and making herself happy. Jehan wrote (heavily romanticised and basically fictional) poetry about them. Joly gave her a box of super-thick condoms and told her to 'knock herself out, now she wasn't going to get gonorrhoea'. Courf, Bahorel and Bossuet were just pleased she was getting some.

Of course, not everyone felt that way. Gavroche was against it from the start, because he didn't like Montparnasse ('I remember ya tellin' me to stay away from 'im 'cos he's bad news and now ya see 'im all the time! Ya bein' stupid!'). Jacques had cried when he found out, partly because Montparnasse had been 'involved' in the deaths of a few of his friends and relatives, and partly because 'I was gonna be the one that married ya, when I was older!'. Cosette kept offering to set her up with her friends ('really, they're ever so sweet and they'd treat you like a princess… I'm not saying I don't like Montparnasse or anything, just that Robert is REALLY lovely, and I'm sure you'd fall for each other instantly'). Marius was initially pleased she was 'interested in guys at last' – the irony of that had almost made her laugh out loud – but when she said she wouldn't deliver a letter for him, he had gotten huffy, and given her the cold shoulder for a few days. The hurt in his puppy-dog eyes when she'd said no had almost changed her mind, until she reminded herself that asking her to deliver it was ridiculous, what did he think stamps were for, and who even wrote letters these days anyway?! Incapable of holding a grudge, he started speaking to her again eventually, but always backed up Cosette's offers of more suitable boyfriends. Enjolras hadn't said anything. He never spoke to Montparnasse, but this seemed to be less of a dislike of 'Parnasse himself and more that he was simply thoroughly bored with the whole scenario.

* * *

Two weeks before Feuilly and Sylvie's wedding, Combeferre was sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast. Enjolras sat opposite him, black coffee in hand, reading the letters section of the newspaper with a frown on his face.

'Enjolras, can I ask you about something you're probably not interested in?'  
'I don't know why you'd want to, but I don't see why not.'  
Combeferre thought about how to word it for a second, and then asked 'What do you think of Éponine and Montparnasse?' He watched carefully as to what Enjolras' reaction would be, but other than a slight pause, there wasn't one.  
'I don't really have an opinion on it.' _I doubt THAT very much.  
_'You must have! Don't you always tell me that staying impartial is a terrible idea?'  
'Well yes, but that's only true when it's something important.'  
'This is important! It directly affects me and you through the apartment, it impacts on all our friends, and don't pretend you haven't noticed the guys talking about it when we're planning things.'  
Enjolras took a sip of coffee, clearly thinking hard. _You're not getting out of this one.  
_'All right… I don't trust him. He's very smart, but he doesn't say much. He barely talks to her, from what I see. Also, from what I gather, he was around when she lived back at the inn, and there aren't many nice guys who frequent the Thénardiers' establishment.'  
'True, but she said she's known him longer than that, since she was a little kid.'  
'That doesn't make him trustworthy.'  
'No, and I agree with you on that point, the less he knows about Les Amis the better. Still, Éponine knows her way around – she lied about the café, and she's never taken him to anyone's apartment, including this one. She'll be fine. Without wishing to sound rude, I don't get the impression it's a relationship based on dialogue and soul-sharing, in any case.'  
'No.'

They were silent for a while, and Combeferre thought that must be it, so he returned to his Ready-Brek. He was mid-swallow, a few minutes later, when Enjolras took him by surprise, blurting out 'She doesn't seem happy!'  
_Interesting. _'What makes you say that?'  
'Her face, when she comes back from seeing him. She always smiles, but it's not the smile she gets when she's with Gavroche, or Grantaire, or any of you, really. Her eyes aren't smiling. It appears as though she regrets seeing him every time. You must have noticed it too. If I have, you will have.'  
_I had._ Pondering this, Combeferre ate another spoonful of porridge. 'The only explanation I can come up with is that while she's physically enjoying herself -' Enjolras nearly choked on his coffee. '- she doesn't have any emotional relationship with him, so she can't be totally happy. It might be just what she wants after Marius, though.'  
'Perhaps. I don't even know why we're talking about this; it's really not that interesting.' _Sure it isn't.  
'_I was just curious what you thought. I know you care about her.'  
'What… why… but… what makes you say that?!' Enjolras sputtered.  
_Well I wasn't totally sure, but now I am. _'Well, you do live with her.'  
'Oh. I thought you meant…. Oh. Never mind.'  
Combeferre smirked. _I know what you thought I meant… and I haven't forgotten that kiss when she was asleep. I'm not sure you've admitted it to yourself, though, so you won't take kindly to me saying something. Yet.  
_He stood up to put his bowl in the sink, then go back to his room. Before he left, he turned to Enjolras. 'By the way... her eyes smile for you as well. Not just us.' Enjolras didn't say anything, but Combeferre could swear he saw the ghost of a smile. _Knew it._

He nearly said something to Éponine a few days later, when she asked him why Enjolras never said anything about Montparnasse. As usual, though, he decided to be kind. 'He's just not very vocal about other people's business. Ask him, if it's important to you. He'll have an opinion.'

'It's not IMPORTANT, exactly, just… wondered.'

_Well. This IS interesting._

* * *

She didn't say anything until a week before Feuilly and Sylvie's wedding, when she'd been 'seeing' Montparnasse for about three weeks. The two of them had been sat in the living room: she was watching the Real Housewives of Orange County (it was like watching an alien species for Éponine – they had so much MONEY), while he read the newspaper, his grumpy face firmly in place.

The Real Housewives went to a break, leaving her bored, and she couldn't help herself.

'Enjolras?'  
'Yes?'  
'Can I ask you something?'  
'If it's about that utter twaddle, no.'  
_TWADDLE?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! '_It's not about the Real Housewives of Orange County, I promise.'  
'Then I don't see why not.'  
'What do you think of Montparnasse?'

Silence.

'Come on, you must think something!'

Silence.

'If you keep ignoring me I'll give Gavroche sugar and then tell him that your books need colouring in.'  
'You wouldn't dare.'  
'Want to bet?'

Silence.

'Come onnn!' she whined. 'It's a fair question!'  
'I really don't have that much to say.'  
'Just tell me what you think! Do you think I'm being stupid, still seeing him?'  
'No, I understand what you're doing.'  
'Oh?'  
He sighed, and put his paper down on the seat next to him, meeting her eyes. 'I don't think you're as happy as you want people to believe.'  
'Why?'  
'Because your eyes don't smile when you talk about him, and you don't even mention him that much. It took everything we had to get you to shut up about bloody Pontmercy, but you never mention Montparnasse. I can only assume you don't love him as much.'  
'Maybe that's good. Maybe I don't believe in that stupid love that I had for Marius any more. Maybe I've been reading too many kids' books.'  
'If you really believed that, you wouldn't be re-reading Cinderella at the age of nineteen.'  
'I'm not reading it at the minute actually.'  
'You go to Jehan and Bossuet's to watch Disney films every two weeks.'  
_Don't pretend you don't love Disney! _'You've got copies of Robin Hood, Aladdin and Mulan under your bed, and you think all love is silly.'  
'And when have you ever agreed with me? Come on, Éponine.'

There was a pause, as they both stopped to think. He broke the silence. 'I also don't believe it doesn't bother you that he kills people for your father.'  
'He doesn't always do it for Pa, he does what he wants to do.'  
'That's not the point. Are you_ really_ comfortable with it?'  
_No. But he's never come to find me afterwards as far as I know, so I can put it out of my mind. _'It's none of my business what he does in his own time!'  
'But you don't trust him.'  
'I do!'  
'So why lie about the café? And why haven't you brought him here?'  
'Do you WANT me having loud, passionate sex in the next room?!'  
That had him blushing. 'No! But we both know that's not why.'  
'Look, I appreciate what you're saying but… what we're doing is… simple. And love should be simple.'  
'For God's sake Éponine, there is no emotional connection at all. You don't** love** him.'  
_You don't know that. I don't know that. Maybe this really is what love is. At least it's mutual this time, not like with Marius.  
_'Ok, fine, don't say anything. But until you can prove you love him, I'm not taking anything back.'  
'I don't have to prove anything to you!'  
'No, but you're sitting there lying to yourself and I'm not going to pretend I believe you.'  
_This is ridiculous. _'How can I PROVE I love someone?!'  
He paused for a second. _Ha, got you. _'Sing.'  
_What? _'…sorry?'  
'Sing. You sang about Marius, and anyone could see you really loved him. So show you love Montparnasse. Sing about him.'  
'I have! The first night you met him, I did that Every Avenue song, then last week –'  
'No, no, not a rock song. A real love song. Like 'Harry' or the one you sang that night when I found you on the street… I didn't know that one. Was it from something?'  
_This really isn't going to help my case. _'No, I… made it up.' That surprised him, she could tell by his face. He didn't comment though.  
She thought it over. _Singing about him, that's all I have to do? Easy. _'Right, fine. I'll sing about him. Right now, or…?'  
'When are you next in the Musain?'  
'Tomorrow night.'  
'You could do it then. Gives you time to pick a song.'  
'Fucking hell, how seriously are you taking this!?'  
'You asked for my input!'  
'Anyway, what does it matter which song?!'  
'We both know when you're really singing from the heart.'  
'Since when were you Captain sensitive?!'  
'I'm far from it. But you can't deny I've seen you when you've actually opened up, and really broken down, and you aren't as good an actress as you think you are.'

They'd maintained eye contact the whole way through this argument, but somehow it was different now. Heavier. More intense. 'What, so you know me better than I do now?!'  
'Again, you asked for my input!'  
'Yeah, but it doesn't matter to me what you think!'  
'So why did you ask!?'

They stared at each other, searching each other's eyes for a response. _I don't know. Wish I hadn't. Should have known you'd have a pricky response for me._

Enjolras stood up and walked towards his room. 'I've got a class to go to.' A minute later, he had his coat and shoes, and he was gone.

_Well. Now what?_

_Ah shit, I've missed the rest of Real Housewives._

* * *

**Thoughts? PLEEEEEEEEEASE :D I love you, thanks for all the support, you little beauties.**

**I have a ginormorous swollen eye at the minute (long story) - seriously, I strongly resemble Sloth from the Goonies, and my best friend is calling me Davros. - WHICH MEANS I'm not leaving the house much at the minute, so hopefully more updates!**

**Thank you again for reading, reviewing, following, favouriting... everything!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Phew, it's here!** **You guys seemed pretty excited for this one in the reviews so I sincerely hope it lives up to expectations! I tried my best, promise!**

**It's the longest one ever by almost 1000 words... I debated going for 2 chapters, but since I'd be uploading them at the same time anyway, I thought I'd just leave it, hope that's ok :)**

**Disclaimer at the bottom because spoilers.**

* * *

Éponine was sitting in the Jardin du Luxembourg, resting her back against the trunk of a tree as she sheltered from a short rain shower. As she sat there, she ripped up handfuls of grass to shred roughly in her hands.

She was furious. It was almost lunchtime the day after her discussion with Enjolras and she still couldn't think of a single song to sing for Montparnasse.

It shouldn't be this hard, should it? She'd known him since they were tiny kids, and she was sleeping with the guy on an almost daily basis. This should have been the easiest way to show Enjolras she knew what she was doing, but instead she was sat here in the fucking rain, racking her brains for a song to sing. Her problem was that Enjolras always seemed to know when she was bullshitting, so she was going to have to really mean what she was singing, and despite lying awake all night thinking about it, she had nothing. But she was damned if she was letting him win. So as a result, she'd been quiet and grumpy all day.

She'd seen Montparnasse himself earlier that day; they'd met up in the cemetery, where they'd met that first night. It was the first time they'd gone back to the same place twice, and maybe it was because she was tired and grumpy, but it didn't feel right somehow. It didn't help that he had bags under his eyes, a knife in his pocket and dried blood under his fingernails, which told her he'd been on a job the night before. Éponine had asked if it was with her father and he had said yes, causing the only real argument they'd ever had.

''**Parnasse, you said you were trying to avoid him!'  
'I am, but I can't just suddenly stop talking to him, he'll know something's up. Also, it's a job, Éponine, I'm not going down the inn with him for a beer and a catch-up!'  
'It's not exactly employment, is it?'  
'He wants someone dead, he asks me, they die, he pays me. That's a job. I don't understand why it's suddenly a problem today, you've known about this for years!'  
'You've never come to see me, knife in your fucking blood-stained hands before! How could you think that would be ok!?'  
'Oh sorry, I didn't realise an ex-whore from the slums of San Michel would be squeamish!'  
'WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!'  
'Nothing I said was untrue!'  
'I AM NOT A FUCKING WHORE!'  
'Hence the **_**ex-.**_** '  
'OH, I FUCKING HATE YOU!'  
'And yet you can't get enough of me. What does that say about you, Éponine?! Maybe it says that you don't belong with your rich little boy-toys, and it's time to go back home where you belong!'  
She almost laughed. 'OH REALLY?! Where's that then?! The inn?!'  
'You said it, not me.'  
'I am NEVER going back there' she vehemently spat back at him.  
'Whatever. You belong with your own kind, Éponine. Azelma knows it, that's why she stayed.'  
'Yeah, and look where it's got her!'  
'That's because you left!'  
'So it's MY FAULT that she's being abused daily? It's MY FAULT that she's not being fed? It's MY FAULT that she's being worked to death!?'  
'That's not what I said'  
'But it's what you think!'  
And then he hadn't said anything and she had turned and walked quickly away, tears of fury in her eyes. Montparnasse caught up with her easily and grabbed her arm, turning her to look him in his piercing, cold eyes.  
'What do you want from me, Éponine? I'm not going to change. You know me, you know what I do. Either you trust me not to tell your father where you are, or you don't.'  
'What if I don't?'  
'Then it's up to you to stay away. You're the one who organises this. I just find places for us to go.'  
'Bullshit! Who do you think you are!? You've set this up as often as I have!'  
'That's not true, is it?' She'd thought about it, and he was right. She always said she wanted to see him, or invited him places, or said she wanted KFC or something, and THEN he'd say where to go. **_**God, I am so pathetic! s**_**he had thought to herself.  
'And who do YOU think YOU are, Éponine? We've been friends for years and you've never once complained about my jobs. You were there for half of them, keeping lookout, or stealing stuff in the next room. We've gone to the people's apartments together since this started – don't pretend you didn't know how I got the keys, how else would I get 7 different apartments? Living people don't just hand them over! – and you've never said anything before. We're not getting fucking married or something: I don't try to change you; you don't try to change me. No rules. That's how it is. Either that or this stops, right now. Is that what you want?'**

**She'd held his gaze, tears streaming slowly down her cheeks.**

'**Jesus, Nina, are you seriously crying over something I've said? I thought you were stronger than that.'  
She'd gathered all her courage and anger, and sniffed strongly. 'I don't want this to stop now. God knows why, but I'm enjoying the...'  
'Love-making?!' he had teased in a simpering voice.  
'Well…. Yeah. There was a couple walking past, I didn't want to give them a heart attack, you twat. And you sound like Jehan. Anyway, can you please at least **_**wash **_**before you meet me?'  
He'd released her arm. 'Fair enough. And that's what girls call it, right? You know you love me.'  
'Not as much as you love you. And for your information, it wasn't you that made me cry. I cry if I fucking want to cry, get over yourself.'  
Montparnasse had simply smirked.**

Strangely, thinking back over the argument gave her an idea. _No rules, that's how it is?_ _That's from a song…_

_Got it. It's not ideal, but at least half of it'll be true._

* * *

It was 8 pm and she was in the store-room of the Musain, psyching herself up to go on.

_You can do this, Thénardier. This is as close to meaning it as you're going to get. Just convince him you're right and he's wrong. Go out there and show the self-righteous little… poo. And then the world's your lobster. You don't have to mean it. You just have to make it look like you do._

She took a deep breath, hummed a vocal scale, then left the room with her chin held high.

Deliberately avoiding looking at Les Amis' table, she made her way across the crowded café to the microphone. Then, she put on her brightest smile and happiest voice.  
'Hi everybody! My name's Éponine and I'll be singing a few songs for you tonight! I'm here three nights a week, so if anybody has any requests or anything, please just let me know, I'll do my best to help! Right, on with the music… this first one is –' she paused as a figure by the door caught her eye.

_He's here. Montparnasse is here._

_I can't do this._

'- from one of my favourite Disney films, Tangled, and it's for my good friends... Jehan and Bossuet, who are sitting in the corner over there!' she pointed to the slightly stunned, but very pleased pair.  
_Better make a joke out of this, you pathetic coward, or he's going to know you chickened out. _'The slightly less dopey-looking one with the curls is single ladies. Get in there, he likes Disney.' Jehan blushed scarlet, as the rest of Les Amis burst out laughing; Bossuet spilling his drink down his front in the process.

'Anyway, enough silliness…'she turned around to set the jukebox, and the cheerful guitar intro rang through the café.

'_7 AM, the usual morning line-up...'_

* * *

Three songs later, she was running out of options, and her confidence was rising, so she decided to go for it._ Game face, Thénardier. Let's get this over with._

'This one's a special one for me… they know who they are.'

The pretty piano intro filled her ears, and she started to sing.

* * *

This was it. It had to be. _Finally! At that rate, I thought she wasn't going to do it._

The introduction didn't give him any clues as to what the song was. It was pretty, piano based. Short. Ten seconds later, she was singing.

_I know my heart. Don't care what people say.  
All I know is that I never felt like this._

As she sang these words, she looked directly at him, one eyebrow raised defiantly.

_And besides, I wouldn't change him if I could.__  
__No man's all good._

Her voice was strong and beautiful, as always. Enjolras always got a funny feeling in his chest when Éponine sang; even if she was just singing along with the radio, or humming while she cooked. It was irritating, actually, because he didn't know what it was, and it made it very hard to think of anything else.

_I always knew what I was takin' on.__  
__But I always felt that I could change his ways.__  
__Even if my man will never fall in line, __  
__Glad he's mine._

He had to congratulate her on her song choice. That last verse could almost have been written by her.

'_Cause you love who you love.__  
__And you can't help how you're made.__  
__You don't have no say. You're heart decides.__  
__It's that simple I'm afraid.__Yes you love who you love.__  
__Common sense may say it's wrong.__  
__There's a part of him you know is wild.__  
__Maybe that's what made you love him all along._

She met his eyes again as she sang the last line, and he knew. She was faking.

_I only care that he's mine and I am his  
There ain't no rules, that's how it is!  
Most girls would hate to be standing in my shoes.__  
__But true love's something you don't choose._

Éponine must have seen it in his eyes, because that verse, her voice had kicked up a notch, to a level he had never heard before. She was truly incredible._ She should be filling arenas, or on Broadway or something, not trying to prove a point to me in a little café in San Michel._ She was so good that if he hadn't seen straight into her eyes, he would definitely have believed her, from that.

It gave him an idea.

* * *

He knew. She was sure of it. He'd known when she met his eyes on the first chorus. She inwardly kicked herself, but decided to ramp up a gear for the last chorus, see if she couldn't change his mind.

_For you love who you love.__  
__And you go with what you feel…  
And you never think what's down the road__  
__while the fairy tale seems real._

It was at this point she looked at Montparnasse for the first time. His face was cold, unreadable. But somehow, she knew something was wrong.

_Oh you love who you love.__  
__Common sense may say it's wrong  
There's a part of him you know is wild.__  
__Maybe that's what made you love him all along._

Last line. Last chance.

_Could be that's what made you love him_

_**All along!**_

She belted the last note, eyes closed, heart racing. She opened her eyes as the applause rang out, to see Montparnasse making his way out the door.

'Thank you, ladies and gentleman. I'm just going to take a short break, then I'll be back for a couple more. You've got time to run away if you like, I understand – thanks for staying this long. And not throwing food.' She switched off the microphone as the whole café laughed. Catching Musichetta's confused eye – she didn't normally take a break – she mouthed _two minutes, _and then hurried out the door after Montparnasse.

She burst into the cold air, frantically looking around for her old friend in the shadows of the night. Montparnasse was good at hiding in shadows, but she knew him too well for him to hide from her. Éponine saw a slight movement in a shop doorway a few doors down, and she had him.

''Parnasse! Where are you going?!'

He must have known he was busted, because he moved out of the shadows to stand under a street light. They were about 30 feet apart, facing each other, but she felt as though she was right there, touching him, there was so much energy in the air. Neither of them spoke for a second, they just held the piercing eye contact.

Suddenly, he spoke. 'What the hell was that?' his voice was low. Dangerous. Demanding.  
'What?'  
'That song. What was that?'  
'It's just a song, Montparnasse.'  
'Are you in love with me?' _What!? _  
'What?! No!'  
'Then why did you sing that?'  
'It's… I…' _I was trying to piss off my room-mate? That won't go down well.  
_'There must be a reason, Éponine! It's never happened before!'  
_FINE. _'Look… I kind of… I was talking to one of the guys about us, and he was pissing me off and I did it to show him, ok? Don't worry, I love you, but I'm not IN love with you!'  
'You did it to _SHOW ONE OF THE GUYS_?'  
'That makes it sound bad, I just –'  
'It is bad. You've made this weird.'  
'What!? Wait, why are you mad?!'  
'Because now I feel like I've led you on. I thought I made it clear I didn't want a bullshit relationship out of this, Éponine.'  
'Neither do I!'  
'I'm not protecting you from your Dad because I love you!'  
'So why are you doing it?!'  
'BECAUSE I FEEL BAD THAT I SCREWED YOU OVER WHEN YOU WERE A KID.'  
'Oh, REALLY?!'  
'YES, REALLY.'  
'So it has nothing to do with the fact you're having fantastic sex on a daily basis?!'  
'I GET THAT ANY WAY'  
'Of COURSE you do! Fucking Montparnasse, screwing his way around Paris! You'd think you'd be better at it, since you're doing it so much!'  
'See, THIS is what I don't want! This fucking BULLSHIT! It's been what, three weeks? And we have done NOTHING but argue today!'  
'So what are you saying? That I'm in love with you or something?!'  
'I don't give a shit, to be honest. The sex isn't worth it, I'm getting that elsewhere.'  
They stared at each other, their eyes locked. Fire and ice. Only this time, the light in the fire was fading, as she stuck her chin up defiantly to hold back the tears.  
He spoke again, his voice authoritative. 'Don't look for me any more. I won't look for you. Deal?'  
'Fine.' she spat out.  
'Fine.'

He held her gaze for a second, and then he turned away, disappearing back into the shadows he came from.

He never even looked back.

* * *

Enjolras knew something was wrong. She never normally took breaks, and she'd left the café altogether, running after Montparnasse. He almost felt guilty for getting her to do the song.

Almost.

He decided to ask Joly, the closest to the window, if he could see her.

'Joly! Is Éponine coming back, can you see her?'  
'She's out of my line of view, I'm afraid. Must be bloody freezing in that t-shirt though, in this weather. She'll catch her death!'  
'Thanks.'  
'Oh, wait – here she comes!'

She burst back into the café and headed straight for the microphone. He heard Joly muttering under his breath about goose bumps and jumpers and hot drinks, but before the young medic was in full swing, she was speaking again.

'Sorry about that everybody…' Her voice was lower and thicker than before, as though she'd been crying, but he couldn't see tear tracks on her face. She sounded… dangerous.

'This one's for my room-mate. You wanted an emotional song, so eat your fucking heart out.'

He felt the eyes of all his friends on him, burning into his skin. He fought down a blush and avoided eye contact as another sweet, pretty, piano introduction began. Maybe this wouldn't be a bad thing after all. The introduction sounded nice.

_I wish I could Bubble Wrap my heart,  
In case I fall and break apart,_

Then again, maybe it would.

_I'm not God, I can't change the stars,  
__And I don't know if there's life on Mars,  
__But I know you've hurt,  
__People that you love and those who care for you,  
__I want nothing to do with the things you're going through.__  
_

She was singing lower than usual; her voice was thick, and full of emotion.

_This is the last time,  
I give up this heart of mine,  
I'm telling you that I  
Have broken down and finally realised:  
You stand in the streetlight,  
But you're black on the inside,  
And now you've even gone and made me cry  
Well, this is goodbye._

Her eyes were shining; he could see them from here. Not the distracting blaze of a girl on fire, the hazy shine of a girl who was trying not to cry, and/or punch something.

_I'm a little dazed and confused,  
'Cause life's a bitch, but so are you.  
All my days have turned into nights;  
can I live without, without, without you in my life?  
And you wrote the book on how to be a liar,  
and lose all your friends,  
and I mean nothing at all  
I am just another ghost that's been in your bed._

She spat out the last line, her words dripping with feeling. She wasn't faking this time. She meant every word.

_And this is the last time,  
I give up this heart of mine,  
I'm telling you that I  
Have broken down and finally realised:  
You stand in the street light,  
But you're black on the inside,  
And now you've even gone and made me cry  
This is goodbye._

As the music built, with more electric guitar, so did Éponine. It was as though she got a new lease of life from somewhere; all the anger and hurt that had been being oppressed before was suddenly released.

_Yeah!  
Turn on the radio honey,  
'Cause every single sad song you'll be able to relate.  
But this one I'm taking!  
Whoa oh! Don't get all emotional baby,  
you can never talk to me  
you're unable to communicate!_

Suddenly all was quiet again. You could feel the emotion in the room. If Éponine wasn't so effortlessly electrifying to watch, it might have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't. Rather than being put off by it, everyone was sharing in her pain, the song uniting everyone in the room. It was a strange feeling. Cosette looked on the verge of tears.

This_ is the last time,  
I give up this heart of mine,  
I'm telling you that I  
have broken down and finally realised..._

Just like the last song, she put everything into the last chorus. This time though, it seemed like it was for a different, more personal reason.

_And this is the last time,  
I give up this heart of mine,  
I'm telling you that I  
Have broken down and finally realised:  
You stand in the street light,  
But you're black on the inside,  
And now you've even gone and made me cry  
This is goodbye._

As her voice cracked on the last line, he couldn't help but remember that night on the Rue Plumet, the last time he'd heard her pour absolutely everything she had out into the world through a song.

_This is goodbye._

* * *

**Ok, now I can disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis, Tangled, Disney, Bonnie and Clyde, or Mcfly. ****I wish I owned Mcfly, that would be awesome.**

**Pfffft, a bit intense. I'm a little worried I rushed this, so please let me know what you think! Love all of you, and your reviews :)**


	34. Chapter 34

**I'm back! Hope it's not too much of an anticlimax :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. BUT I DID SEE FRA FEE IN EDINBURGH. IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE COOLEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME.**

* * *

It had been four days since she had spoken to him. Not even a word had passed her lips in his presence. Of course, if she could possibly avoid it, she was very rarely _in _his presence: he'd barely seen her at all, and this was no small achievement, considering they shared an apartment.

She very nearly left: Combeferre and Grantaire had been in her room for almost an hour convincing her not to move out, while he sat in his room listening as the guilt turned his stomach.

He'd really messed up, and he knew it.

Enjolras was not a man who often regretted his actions. While he had a fiery temper, and often made quick decisions, in general, his actions were thought-through and considered, and almost always in aid of a greater cause. As such, he usually felt that even if things went wrong, he had acted in the most sensible and morally right way that he could, and if he was trying to further a cause, damage was worth it. He had only ever had two regrets: falling out with his mother, the harm that came to the young boys at the recent protest.

The problem with the situation with Éponine was that he HADN'T considered the consequences of his actions. He hadn't thought through what he was saying the other night. And there was no greater cause here, except possibly for Éponine to be happier – because she wasn't happy with Montparnasse, of that he was certain. Unfortunately, it seemed she wasn't happy without him either, and because it was his fault they had broken up, Enjolras was really in trouble. He was so angry with himself for getting involved at all, and especially for being so impulsive with his challenge; what was it about the situation that had made him so thoughtless? The look in her eyes as she had sung the last song at the café, before leaving without another word to anyone, would stay with him forever. It was entirely his fault. Even Combeferre had been disapproving of him – 'I never thought you would ever be interested enough to interfere in someone else's relationship, Enjolras. Éponine is heartbroken. I hope you don't expect her to forgive you any time soon.' – and only Gavroche had come out in active support of Enjolras' actions. This was not comforting for the guilt-ridden leader of Les Amis.

He'd decided to leave her be, partly out of respect for her time to grieve and partly out of cowardice: he wasn't looking forward to facing her again. However, he knew he had to eventually, as the rehearsal for Feuilly and Sylvie's wedding was that evening, and there was a fairly good chance they'd have to interact at some point. He also didn't want his good friend's wedding day to be anything less than perfect, and would feel even worse if it was partly his fault. So with that in mind, he knocked on her bedroom door.

'Hello?' His stomach did an involuntary flip as he heard her voice for the first time since the Musain. _Must be the nerves _he thought to himself. He weighed up his options: say who it was and be told to go away, or open the door and run the risk that she wasn't… clothed. He opened the door.

She was sitting on the bed in Grantaire's jogger bottoms and her ACDC t-shirt. Her hair was messy, and piled up on the top of her head, strands escaping all over the place. She looked up as he walked in, the surprise evident on her face at who it was. He decided to act before she could recover from the shock.

'Before you yell at me and tell me you never want to see me again, I want to apologise. I was out of line in saying what I said about your relationship and to dare you to do something you didn't want to was just stupid. I am very sorry for the part I had in ending your relationship with Montparnasse, and whilst I fully understand that you are angry and upset and grieving, can we at least be civil to each other? We've got the rehearsal tonight and I don't want Feuilly's wedding to be awkward because of my idiocy.'  
She said nothing for a moment. Enjolras stood awkwardly, wondering what to do with his hands – fold them? Too angry. Hold onto something? He wasn't going to fall over, why? Had hands always been this awkward, or was it just this particular silence that made them that way? Why wasn't she talking? Was she going to bite his head off?  
After a long while of apparently thinking hard about what to say, she replied quietly 'I'm not going to yell at you.'  
_That's a relief. _'Thank you.'  
She let out a nervous laugh. 'I don't know what else to say, really.'  
_Welcome to my world. _'Well… could you maybe tell me how you're – I don't know. Feeling? I want to make this right and I don't really know other than that you're sad.'  
'I am sad, I suppose, but not because me and Montparnasse finished. It hurt at the time, and the things he said still hurt, but I kind of knew it was coming anyway; we weren't really in for a lasting commitment. I was angry at you the night at the Musain, because you called me out on what I was thinking and nobody really does that, so… I'm more humiliated than angry at you, to be honest, because I did kind of push you for your opinion and you were actually right. Now I just feel like an idiot for making such a fool of myself in front of all those people. I'm lucky it's 'Chetta who has the Musain because otherwise there's no chance I'd be asked to sing there again.'  
'You didn't make a fool of yourself, you were incredible.'  
'I told you to "eat your fucking heart out" in front of a café full of people.'  
'That's ok.'  
'It's embarrassing!'  
'It's not the worst thing someone's said to me in front of a crowd. After those songs, I doubt anyone even remembers.'  
She looked at him curiously for a second, her eyes twinkling and bright. 'Thank you' she said, simply.  
'That's ok. I mean it.'  
Éponine smiled at him, the hint of her dimples appearing on her cheeks. 'How long until the rehearsal?'  
'I was going to leave in about an hour, if you want a lift?'  
'That would be great, thanks. God, I need a shower.' She stood up and grabbed her towel off the radiator, before moving towards where he was stood in the doorway and looking at him.

_What?_

_Oh, I'm in the way. _He moved aside to let her past, but she stayed put for a second or two. Then, all of a sudden, she was up on her tiptoes and pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. Before his brain had time to catch up to what just happened, she had softly uttered 'thank you for apologising' and then left for the bathroom.

_What?_

…_. What!?_

_WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!_

* * *

**TEEHEEEEEEE**

**Please review, friends!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Another fairly short, slightly filler-ish one, sorry! More stuff happens next chapter, I promise.**

**Thanks for all the reviews on the last one, it really means a lot that you take the time to write them! Love love love you all.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Les Mis, movie Montparnasse would have been 1. a bigger part 2. hot.**

* * *

Enjolras got ready for the wedding rehearsal in a state of internal panic. _WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! WHAT POSSESSED YOU? YOU NEVER DO STUFF LIKE THAT WITH ME! WE DON'T… TOUCH! YOU HAVEN'T SPOKEN TO ME IN DAYS AND THIS IS HOW YOU THINK YOU MAKE IT __**LESS **__AWKWARD?! _Half of him wanted to go out and apologise, or ask what was going on, but his overwhelming instinct was to pretend nothing had happened, so that was what he did.

The church was across the city, in the 18th arrondissement, where Sylvie had grown up. It took twenty minutes to drive there and they may well have been the most awkward 20 minutes of Enjolras' life: he spent the whole journey with his stomach churning, trying to gauge her reaction to what had happened. What did it all mean? It wasn't a _romantic _gesture, was it? No, surely not. A kiss on the cheek was like a kiss on the forehead. Didn't mean anything. He kicked himself for even thinking about the kiss on the forehead: that was a whole other can of worms and frankly, he was freaking out enough.

The awkward silence was punctured by occasional banal comments about the traffic, or the weather, which were intended to ease the situation but actually drew attention to the discomfort of the situation. Reaching L'Église Saint-Jean-de-Montmartre was an almost physical relief, as she jumped out the car and virtually ran into the church while he hung back, his stomach finally settling. _That's the worst part over. You don't have to be alone with her for a while now. You'll barely be interacting with her at all. It's going to be fine._

* * *

'_Well THAT was awful' _Éponine thought to herself as she darted out of the car and into the church. Pushing the whole thing to the back of her mind, she waited for instructions from Grace as to what to do.

They were stood at the back of the church, while Sylvie's sister was organising the order of the entrance to the church, in her usual charming way. 'You two first' she barked, gesturing to Joly and Musichetta. 'Then Cosette and… where the hell is Gérard?!' Grace looked around for a second, before spotting Combeferre who was talking to Grantaire and hadn't heard her calling. Éponine found it very strange to hear the man called by his first name, as it wasn't something the group really did. Unfortunately, she was still thinking about this when Grace's attention turned to her, so she got a stern, disapproving look and fingers snapping in front of her face. 'Wake up Éponine! Next are you and… I don't know your first name' she snapped, looking at Enjolras with a raised eyebrow.  
'I'm just Enjolras.'  
'Fine. Whatever. And then I'm in last before Sylvie comes in with Papa. RIGHT, EVERYBODY, RUN THROUGH!'

Éponine turned to face Enjolras who was standing awkwardly next to her. He looked so uncomfortable; she had to hold back a grin. _This is worse than the boob incident! _In an attempt to break the tension – and also because she didn't know what to do – she asked 'Do we just walk up side by side?'  
Clearly shocked that she had spoken to him, Enjolras visibly jumped, before replying 'oh, erm… you take my arm.'  
'Right. Sorry, I've never done this before.'  
He didn't reply, so she kept talking. 'Bridesmaiding, I mean. Well, I've never been to a wedding generally, actually.'  
He seemed surprised by this, asking 'never?!' with apparently genuine curiosity.  
'Never.'  
'Wow. Well, I've never enjoyed weddings but Courfeyrac informs me that he's enjoyed them a lot in the past. So hopefully you'll have a good time.'  
'I hope so.' She replied. 'Shit, I hope I don't mess it up…'  
'You won't. I think Sylvie's sister runs a pretty tight ship.'  
Éponine laughed. 'Understatement of the century. God help me if I go wrong, you'll have to keep me right.'  
They walked up the aisle side by side, while music played – not, to Éponine's surprise and disappointment, the 'Here Comes the Bride' music which she had been expecting – until they reached Feuilly and Bahorel, who was best man, at the front of the church. They then separated, with Éponine going to stand beside the other girls, and Enjolras joining the men opposite. She shot him a panicked look – how could he keep her right from all the way over there?! – which he responded to with a smirk and a mouthed 'you'll be fine.'

The run-through of the ceremony continued, as Éponine grew more and more confused. There were going to be songs and hymns and readings? Wasn't it just swapping vows and rings then 'I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride', hooray, we're married, pass the champagne? Apparently not. She grew more and more panicked as the priest continued talking to Sylvie, Feuilly, Bahorel and Grace about the order of things. How was she supposed to remember all this?!

* * *

He tried not to watch her during the rehearsal, but her face was so funny that it was difficult not to. It was that look of sheer _terror_ in her eyes; Éponine was almost never out of her depth, or scared, and therefore to see such fear on her face was extraordinary - and over something as silly as a wedding! Enjolras barely noticed the time passing during the rehearsal; he was so entertained by Éponine's discomfort.

She came and found him for the drive home after they were done, gabbling at top speed about hymns and orders and making a fool of herself and -  
'Éponine, calm down, it's going to be fine!' he laughed.  
'BUT I'M COMPLETELY LOST AND IT'S THE DAY BEFORE, WHY ARE WEDDINGS SO COMPLICATED?!'  
'They aren't! Honestly, I'll talk you through it when we get back, it's not that bad.'  
She still looked worried, but seemed to have calmed down a bit when she asked 'Really?'  
'Really really.'  
'Thanks, Enjolras.'  
'No problem. Where's Combeferre?'

* * *

They sat on the sofa together as he explained the order of the service and what would happen afterward step by step. It turned out that he was right and it wasn't that complicated after all, so she felt much better; particularly about the reception, which just sounded like a well-dressed party to her. The two of them talked about every detail, and slowly she got more confident with the whole thing, and felt almost relaxed about the day ahead. Except for one thing.  
'I can't believe I'm wearing a dress for a whole day.'  
'I've never done it, but I'm sure it's not that bad. I'll be in a suit!'  
'Yeah, but you were probably born in a suit, posh boy.'  
'You've never seen me in a suit!'  
'Because I'm not usually here when you get back from lawyer practise!'  
He chuckled. 'Lawyer practise?'  
Éponine laughed 'I don't know what you call it, you're practising to be a lawyer!'  
'I suppose so.'  
'Anyway I NEVER wear posh dresses. EVER.'  
'Come on, it'll be ok'  
'Actually, you know what, I don't even mind wearing a dress but tomorrow's… AHH! You're going to laugh. Courf and R are going to have a field day.'  
Hilarious images of giant bows and frilly bonnets popped into his head. 'Why, what's wrong with it?'  
'You'll see' she warned, darkly.  
'I suppose I will.'

The two of them stayed quiet for a second, content with the silence. Combeferre stuck his head out of his door and called 'Hey, guys?'  
'Yeah?' Éponine laid her head on back of the sofa to look at their room-mate upside down.  
'You know it's past midnight?' _Really? We've been talking for hours… where did the time go?  
_Suddenly, Éponine shrieked. ''Chetta's picking me up at half 9! I need sleep! So do you! Thanks, 'Ferre!' she continued, her voice high and frantic as she jumped off the sofa.  
'No bother.' He called as he went back into his room.

Éponine turned to face Enjolras. 'Thanks for all the help, Enj, I really appreciate it.'  
'Don't mention it.'  
They stayed there for a second, smiling at each other, before she rubbed her eyes and said 'AHH I need to go to bed! See you tomorrow!'  
He stood up. 'Me too… Goodnight, Éponine.'  
''Night Enjolras' she called back as she closed her bedroom door.

It was only later on, as they lay in bed trying to get to sleep, that they both realised she'd called him Enj and he hadn't said a word.

* * *

**Again, sorry it's a bit filler-y. Better next time, promise!**


	36. Chapter 36

**I'M SORRY!**

**I'm not dead, but I moved to University on Saturday, and I had to get sorted for that, and Freshers' Week is so hectic I've just had no time at all!**

**Updates are likely to be less frequent now because obviously I have to study, so it's more likely to be weekly or bi-weekly than daily... I'm sorry, I will try my best, and I'm definitely not abandoning this story. I'll reply to reviews and PMs as soon as I can as well! Thank you so much for your continued support, much love for you all, really really.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables, or any of the songs mentioned, although I do love them all.**

* * *

The morning of the wedding was a blur of fun, stress and hairspray for Éponine, who was at Sylvie's house with the girls, helping her get ready. The first few hours were brilliant, they all did their hair and while listening to music and laughing at each other's funny guy and wedding-based stories, but around an hour before they had to leave, the church called to say there had been a problem with the seats and they might not be able to get everybody in, which sent Grace into full dictator mode, yelling down the phone and insisting everything would be perfect. As a result, Sylvie started to get stressed, and one thing led to another and she ended up getting cold feet and trying to unpin her hair and call off the wedding, so Éponine and Musichetta had to take charge, removing Grace from the room to finish her phone call, and getting Cosette (who was the best at sympathy and gentle persuasion by a fairly wide margin) to calm Sylvie down and get her make-up and dress on before the cars arrived to take them to the church. All in all, Éponine was STRESSED.

Once the first car, which carried Éponine, Musichetta and Cosette, had arrived at L'Église Saint-Jean-de-Montmartre, she ran in on a scouting mission, to check everyone was ready for the bride's arrival. Courfeyrac and Marius were ushers, waiting at the door, and started grinning madly as she approached.

Marius called out 'Éponine!' as soon as she was in earshot.  
'Hey guys, how's it going?'  
'Pretty good, just about everyone's in, I think. Feuilly and the priest are all ready, so we're ready whenever Sylvie is!'  
'She was in the car behind me, maybe... 5 minutes?'  
'Brilliant. So are you with Cosette? And Musichetta?'  
'Yeah. Bridesmaids' car. I need a DRINK, I have had the girliest morning of my entire life, I swear to God. Fuck, I shouldn't swear in church. SHIT. Oh…. Poopy!'  
The two men were laughing heartily by the end of this little outburst. Once he'd recovered, Courfeyrac said 'well you look amazing, so all the girl time was worth it.'  
'Awww thanks Courf!'  
'I mean it, you look hot! You might get to be the lucky bridesmaid who gets to shag me.'  
She laughed, then joked 'don't get my hopes up if you don't mean it, I'll hold you to that promise.'  
'I'm counting on it.' Courfeyrac beamed.

Sylvie's car pulled up in front of the church, prompting Marius to laugh 'at least THAT conversation is over.' He then popped his head round the door, into the main body of the church, motioning for the groomsmen to come out.

* * *

Enjolras was a bit bored. He was very happy for Feuilly, obviously, and was pleased to be attending the wedding, but if he had to listen to another distant relative of Feuilly's give the 'proud relative' speech as they talked to the small gang of groomsmen, he might shoot someone. As such, it was an intense relief when he saw Marius motioning for them to go outside to meet up with the bridal party. _Thank the Lord, it's finally starting._

He was not prepared for what he saw.

Éponine was stood to the left of the door, beside some flowers, her head thrown back in laughter, apparently at something Courfeyrac had said. She was wearing a bright pink dress, which seemed to bring out curves that he'd never noticed before – though she was still far from fat, or even curvy - and fell to the knees of her long, tanned legs. Her hair was up, with just a few strands framing her smiling face. In her hands, she held a small bouquet of pink and white flowers.

She looked incredible.

Really incredible.

And he hadn't the faintest idea what to do about it. He had to say SOMETHING, didn't he? What was it about this girl that made his way with words fly out the window?

Courfeyrac and Marius left, so she looked around. Spotting him, she waved, so he walked slowly towards her, his mind whirring at 100 miles an hour to try and think of something to say.

He reached her and stood awkwardly in front of her for a second, before blurting out 'you look really beautiful, Éponine.'

Her smile grew, and she blushed. _Now you've done it. I really should stop freaking her out like this.  
'_Thank you, Enjolras, that's really… Nobody ever says I'm beautiful, not in that way… I don't… I… Thank you' she finished a little lamely.  
_They should. _'It's quite alright.'  
'You look very handsome, too. Lovely suit.'  
'Thank you.'  
They stood a little awkwardly for a second, before Éponine burst out 'GOD I hope this isn't long. I need a drink!'  
He laughed. 'Rough morning?'  
'Girly and stressful!'  
'The worst combination' he deadpanned  
'It is!' she laughed.  
'I had a very easy morning, we all went over to Feuilly's for breakfast at about 10, and just sat around talking and watching TV for a bit before we changed into suits and came here.'  
'That sounds like SO much more fun.'  
'You wouldn't say that if you'd had to listen to Courfeyrac's 'game plan' for picking up ladies.'  
'I got the abridged version just now, actually' she chuckled. The music started to play in the church and Joly and Musichetta were about to walk up the aisle.  
'Lucky you' he said, offering his arm for them to go into the church. 'Shall we?'  
'We shall!'

* * *

The ceremony was beautiful, with barely a dry eye in the house. Even Éponine looked a little misty-eyed as the happy couple exchanged vows, Enjolras noticed, so he offered her his handkerchief when they were waiting for a car to go to the reception. He still wasn't sure why she found this so funny.

He was on a sat on a table with Combeferre, Éponine, Grantaire, and a few people from the market where Feuilly had his stall for the meal put on by Musichetta and Feuilly's mother, which was delicious. The group chatted and laughed the whole time, with Grantaire getting steadily drunker (they really couldn't take him anywhere) and Éponine's laugh getting steadily louder. The speeches from Sylvie's dad and Bahorel were brilliant, hilarious and heart-warming in all the right ways, and by the time the first dance came around, Enjolras found he was actually enjoying this wedding quite a lot. The music started, and to his and most people in the rooms' surprise, Éponine took the stage, beaming. As Feuilly and Sylvie danced slowly around the floor, gazing into each other's eyes, Éponine sang a breath-taking version of Bob Dylan's 'Make You Feel My Love.'

As he so often did, he found himself lost in her voice and the lyrics of the song.

_I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue  
I'd go crawling down the avenue  
No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do  
To make you feel my love._

_The storms are raging on the road, it seems  
And on the highway of regret  
The winds of change are blowing wild and free  
You ain't seen nothing like me yet_

_I could make you happy  
make your dreams come true  
Nothing that I wouldn't do  
Go to the ends of the Earth for you  
To make you feel my love._

As the song ended and the music picked up, the others all went off to dance. Despite protestations and various attempts to convince him, Enjolras remained seated, and simply watched them all and their different personalities light up the room: Marius and Cosette simply swayed lovingly, while Éponine and Grantaire were dancing enthusiastically around the floor, at speed.

He reflected on the day he'd had – the great morning with his friends, the beautiful ceremony. Éponine – how she'd looked, her song. Just as he was thinking about how truly beautiful she had looked when she sang, she came over hand held out.

_No way. '_No.'  
'Come oooonnnn!' she whined. 'It's FUN!'  
'No.'  
'No wonder you don't enjoy weddings, Captain Sit-out.'  
'I'm just not a good dancer!'  
'Please, one dance? For me?'  
He met her eyes. _Well I can't say no to that. '_Fine!'

She beamed, and grabbed his hand to pull him onto the dance floor as 'Rio' by Duran Duran finished. The DJ talked over the last couple of seconds, announcing 'a CLASSIC by Duran Duran there, now, here's a nice slow one for all the lovers.' Enjolras' blood ran cold, as the intro to 'Wild Horses' by the Rolling Stones filled the room and everyone on the dance floor started to pair off.

What should he do? Would she be ok with this? Did he even WANT to slow dance with her. God, _slow dancing_, what was this, middle school?!

'You going to dance with me or what?' Éponine teased.  
'What sounds good.' He teased back, and then took a step towards her, so they were almost touching. As internally he simultaneously freaked out and breathed a sigh of relief that she had made the decision for him, she took his hand and placed it on her waist, smirking. He suddenly realised what she was doing, and took her hand in a loose ballroom hold, as she placed her spare hand gently on his shoulder. They started to gently sway in time with the music, their eyes locked,

_Childhood living is easy to do  
The things you wanted I bought them for you  
Graceless lady you know who I am  
You know I can't let you slide through my hands_

He was lost in her eyes, the deep chocolate flecked with gold he'd never seen before, and blazing with a kind of fire he hadn't seen before.

_Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away_

It felt like there was nobody in the room but them.

_I watched you suffer a dull aching pain  
Now you decided to show me the same  
No sweeping exits or offstage lines  
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind_

He was struck by a sudden, terrifying urge to wrap his hand in her hair and kiss her. Her hair was up, so he didn't.

_Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away_

Was that the ONLY reason he didn't? What was happening to him?

_I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie  
I have my freedom but I don't have much time  
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried  
Let's do some living after we die_

Éponine rested her head on his chest, and he felt more comfortable than he ever had before. Suddenly, his mind stopped whirring, and there was just peace. Everything was Éponine.

_Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday  
Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them some day_

The music changed, and Éponine straightened up. 'Thank you for the dance Monsieur' she teased, with a mock curtsey.  
Barely recovering in time to reply with a 'Thank YOU, Mademoiselle' and a joking bow, he snapped himself out of his daydreams. He was being ridiculous. He really shouldn't drink.

Bloody weddings.

* * *

**teehee**

**back as soon as I can, promise! Reviews make my day, please let me know what you think!  
Thank you again for all your support, guys!**


	37. Chapter 37

**I'm back! Finally! I'm sorry this took so long but I am SWAMPED right now with lectures and tutorials and my job and if I'm being totally honest bars and shit, so EVENTUALLY here I am! Sorry!**

**Thanks so much to everyone who has waited and stood by the story and supported me, it means so much. You guys are truly the best! I'll try and update again ASAP, promise.**

**MUCH LOVE FOR ALL OF YOU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis. But I did own the ass of the guy who tried to chat me up in a bar by claiming he was one of Les Amis in the movie. LOL NO. He wasn't. I can but dream of such a thing actually happening. I don't think he expected me to be able to name them all, bless him :L**

* * *

After the wedding, Christmas seemed to jump out at them suddenly; they'd been so focussed on making the day perfect they'd never even thought about presents or Christmas dinner or trips home. As a result, Éponine and Les Amis barely saw each other except in passing as they all spent long days at work or university, followed by shopping for gifts and organising trains and flights.

On the 22nd of December, Éponine sang her last set at the Musain before Christmas and everyone came to swap presents and celebrate the holiday together. She sang one of the longest sets she'd ever sung – she didn't finish until half past midnight, by which time so many people had bought her egg-nog that she was fairly tipsy. Luckily, so was everybody else; so tipsy, in fact, that they were convinced to have a Christmas sing-a-long, which Grantaire managed to turn into a drinking game (a shot for every flat note). Éponine couldn't remember much past 2am but apparently they didn't leave the café until 5 – she did have a vague recollection of telling Enjolras that he smelled really good as he helped her get into bed. She hoped this was the drink addling her brain and not what really happened, as this would be mortifying beyond belief.

On the 23rd, tired and hung-over, Les Amis all departed for home. Some had far to go, like Bossuet, whose family lived just outside Toulouse, but others were just crossing Paris, like Marius and Cosette, who were celebrating with Cosette's father. All of them were excited to spend time with their families, with only two exceptions: Grantaire, who said he'd rather be at a pub somewhere than pretending to be sober with his grumpy father and grandmother, and Enjolras, who didn't specify why, but seemed even less keen than R to leave.

As Éponine had nowhere to go, she was staying in the apartment with Gavroche and Jacques, planning to produce some sort of Christmas dinner. Cosette and Courfeyrac had both offered her a place with their families, but Gavroche had never had a real Christmas dinner, so she decided to try and make his first one really special. As a result, she spent the last few days before the holiday picking up turkey, stuffing, Yorkshire puddings, pigs in blankets and vegetables for as little as possible, with plans to make a Christmas pudding on Christmas Eve once he'd gone to bed.

Christmas Eve was a cold day in Paris, and Éponine spent it with Gavroche and Jacques, first shopping, then playing games in the apartment in a nest of blankets they made for themselves on the floor. They splashed out on a Chinese takeaway and watched films until Gavroche and Jacques fell asleep, curled up in the pile of duvets in front of the Christmas tree. At around midnight, Éponine was putting the lid on the pot so the pudding could steam for an hour or two, when there was a thump outside the door.

Éponine froze.

_Montparnasse? Dad? The Patron-Minette? _She glanced over at the living room; the boys were still asleep. In an attempt to defend herself, she grabbed a frying pan from the stand and slowly inched her way towards the door, holding it above her head. _No motherfucker is ruining Gav's Christmas. I've worked too hard on that fucking pudding to be dead before its finished fucking steaming._

She was almost there when the door swung upon to reveal an uncharacteristically dishevelled Enjolras, his arms full of bags of various descriptions, his curls wet and sticking to his face, and his shoulders covered in a fine layer of what looked like snow. He looked up from taking his key out of the lock to see Éponine ready to strike with a frying pan, the amused surprise written all over his face.

'What are you doing?' he asked, curiously.  
_Well it looks ridiculous NOW, but it was a fantastic plan a minute ago. _'Protecting against intruders' she replied, slightly embarrassed.  
'Oh. Ok.' Apparently not wanting to question it, he turned and tried to put some of his packages down on the kitchen table, looking in serious danger of causing a gift avalanche as he leaned too far forward.'  
'Sorry, I'll help you!' Éponine lunged forward, placing the frying pan on the table next to them, and then grabbed some of the more precarious-looking bags from the bedraggled leader of Les Amis.

'Enjolras… aren't you supposed to be with your family? In Saint-Germain-en-Laye?'  
'Yes.' He looked over at the sleeping boys, hardly visible in their blanket nest on the floor, and the ghost of a smile appeared at the corners of his full lips.  
'Why… why are you here?'  
'I… sorry. I should go, I just…'  
'No! No no, don't go! I just wondered.'  
'Well I got home, saw everyone and… I realised I wasn't having any fun. At all. And I thought maybe it was like weddings – I didn't enjoy it at home, but here… it could be nice.'  
'You don't like Christmas?'  
'It's not my favourite time of year.' _What?! Even I like Christmas and I haven't had a proper one in… a decade!_

They stood awkwardly for a minute, quietly looking around the room, Éponine's arms folded loosely. Enjolras' coat slowly dripped water onto the floor, snapping her back into reality.

'Shit, Enj, your coat! Here, take it off, you must be freezing!' She moved forward to take it from him.  
'Thanks. It's snowing pretty hard out there.'  
Taking his coat, she saw that his green plaid shirt was similarly wet, hanging heavily off his broad shoulders. 'You're soaked through! Here, take your shirt off, I'll wash it. You need a bath or something.'

Enjolras didn't move, but his eyes widened in apparent panic.

'Enjolras, I've seen a shirtless guy before. You'll get ill, take it off and go for a shower or a bath or something.'  
'I… but…'  
_Oh for Christ's sake. _Éponine took a small step towards him, the sopping wet coat hanging over her arm. Reaching up, she undid the first button on his shirt, then the next, then the next, without looking up at his face.

Once the last button was undone, she lifted her gaze to meet his. _Please don't be mad._ As their eyes locked, she was almost startled by the intensity of his gaze: his bright blue eyes were darkened, filled to the brim with an emotion she couldn't name, except to say that she'd never seen it before. Resisting the urge to bite her lip nervously, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders to reveal his toned, slightly damp chest, never breaking eye contact as she did so. Enjolras let the sleeves fall down off his arms, and Éponine folded it over her arm with the coat. After a second of just standing there, staring at each other, Éponine whispered, barely audibly, 'you should go for a bath.'

The fire in his eyes went down and they lightened a shade or two, as he broke the stare, cleared his throat and mumbled 'yeah' before disappearing off into the bathroom.

_Holy shit _she mused to herself, placing the coat and shirt on the back of a chair for a second while she ran a hand through her unruly curls and exhaled deeply. _That was... intense. Wow. _Pulling herself together, she picked up the damp clothes and took them to the washing machine. As she set it, she couldn't help but think about what just happened: the awkwardness, the stare, his CHEST – for a guy that didn't really work out, Enjolras was seriously toned. _What a chest!_ Éponine caught herself actually smiling at the memory._ Pull yourself together idiot. It's just Enjolras. And you've seen a CHEST before._

* * *

Enjolras closed the bathroom door behind him and exhaled deeply, running his hands over his face and through his hair. _What. The hell. Was that?! _He turned on the shower, stripped off what remained of his damp clothing and stepped under the stream of warm water.

His insides churned with confusion. What did it all mean? Should he have stared at her like that? Why didn't she say anything when she took his shirt off? Why was he suddenly not cold anymore when it happened? Did he freak her out? Why were her eyes all sparkly and fiery again? Why was he kind of…_ excited _by the whole thing?

Did… did he_ like_ Éponine?

_No, don't be ridiculous. It's just a natural reaction to having a beautiful woman take your shirt off, and then look up at you through those thick, dark lashes with big, brown eyes all filled with fire. It wasn't PERSONAL. You're being silly. Stop reading too much into things._

This inner monologue continued for the full five minutes he was in the shower, and he was just about convinced by the end. He was being silly. It was all nothing.

He wrapped himself in a big, soft towel that was hanging on the radiator in the bathroom, started brushing his teeth and then panicked slightly, as he realised he had no clothes to put on. After a good few minutes of fishing through the airing cupboard in the corner, he came up with an old pair of green lounge pants that Combeferre must have forgotten about, but no t-shirts. He took a deep breath. _There's only one thing for it…_

Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, he exited the bathroom, still brushing his teeth. Éponine had changed into her pyjamas, he noticed, and her back was turned as she put the lid on a Tupperware box, but she looked over her shoulder as she heard the noise behind her. He walked quickly over to the overnight bag of his clothes that he'd left on the table, then pulled out a t-shirt and pulled it on.

Éponine turned around completely, apparently finished whatever she was doing. 'There's erm… we used your duvet in the nest. I can wake them up and –'  
'No! Don't be silly, I'll go on the sofa.'  
'Not on Christmas Eve!'  
'It's fine, really'  
'I mean… I suppose we could all just kip in the nest? It's pretty big. You'll be cold; I'm not letting you sleep on the sofa.'  
_What, like TOGETHER?!_ 'I guess that would be ok.'  
'Ok.'

The pair moved awkwardly over to the haphazard pile of sheets on the floor, and Éponine climbed in. He followed suit, careful not to wake the boys, or knock Éponine with his feet. Enjolras had expected that that would be the end of the conversation for the night – pillow talk wasn't really part of their friendship and this was weird enough as it was. He was proved wrong when Éponine, still looking up at the ceiling, asked softly 'why don't you like Christmas at home?'

He considered his answer for a second before speaking. It wasn't that he didn't LIKE Christmas, it was just that it was always a very sensible, clinical affair at the Enjolras household. Everything was exactly what was expected, nothing more. The tree was up, decorated by the maid, who also bought Enjolras' present each year. The Christmas dinner, prepared by the cook, was exquisite, and all his close relatives were there, but the conversation was always stunted and polite. There was no laughter or music. It wasn't much fun, particularly as he was the youngest person there by about 20 years. In later years, it had simply become an opportunity for his mother to show him women she wanted him to marry, or just brag about him to friends and family. His father and grandfather remained as critical and sceptical as ever, pulling him up on any slight mistake he might make. He dreaded to think what would happen if they knew the work Les Amis did for the poor.

'My family are quite… aloof. It doesn't make for much entertainment. And my father and grandfather started picking up on what was wrong with me before I was even out of my coat, so I just decided not to put myself through it, had dinner and left.'  
'Your Pa's a bit severe, huh?'  
_Only as severe as say, a carving knife. _'A bit.'  
'Well, I'm with you there.' O_h God. Nicely done, Enjolras. Just complain about how hard your family life is to ÉPONINE, she's had a really easy time of it between the rape, abuse and assaults! She'll really understand!  
_'Sorry, I'm just complaining, that was stupid of me, I'm sorry.'  
'Don't worry about it. I understand it would be hard to be constantly disapproved of.' _How is she so nice about all this? After all she suffered, I must look like such a wuss to complain about this._

Silence fell again, which Éponine broke with 'do you ever go someplace to just sit? Not think of anything, not do anything, just… sit. All safe and alone and content.'  
_I don't think I've ever sat not doing anything in my life. _'No, not really.'  
'Isn't it exhausting? Being a leader all the time?'  
_Yes. '_It can be, sometimes.'  
'You're much stronger than me; I couldn't do it all the time. I'd explode.'  
'Of course you could. You're the strongest person I've ever met.'  
She turned her head to face him. 'Really?'  
'Really.'  
They were quiet again for a minute.  
'I go to the cathedral.' She murmured, barely loud enough to hear.  
_What? Oh, quiet place. _'Notre Dame?'  
'Yeah.'  
'I didn't know you were religious.'  
'I'm not. It's just… safe.'  
'I'm glad you have a quiet place.'  
'Thanks. You'll find one someday.'  
'Maybe.'  
'Definitely.' She sounded so sure of herself, so peaceful; he couldn't help but smile even if he didn't believe it.

After this, she fell silent, almost certainly asleep. He lay awake for a while, not used to the feel of the duvet nest, or the rhythmic breathing of three small bodies beside him. Enjolras was just starting to drift off too, his eyelids growing heavier and almost closing, when Éponine rolled over in her sleep, so close their faces were almost touching. He could count her freckles.

They stayed in silence for a long time, Éponine asleep, Enjolras almost there. It was a long time before she broke it, and when she did, he could barely hear her sleepy murmur.

'Enjolras?'  
'Yes?'  
'Happy Christmas.'  
He smiled sleepily. 'Happy Christmas, Éponine.'

* * *

**I hope it was worth the wait! Possibly. Probably not, haha, sorry!**

**With any luck I'll have the next one up by actual Christmas!**

**Just kidding, it'll definitely be before then.**

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**LoveLove.**


	38. Chapter 38

**Feel super Christmassy after writing this one! Sorry, I know it's only September, but the timescale of the story wouldn't work any other way :P**

**Anyhoo, thanks so much for your continuing support, you lovely lot, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Miserables or Fairy Tale of New York. I can but dream.**

* * *

No matter how hard she tried, Éponine couldn't get used to a good night's sleep. Her body just wasn't programmed for it; after years of quick naps where possible and constant vigilance even during sleep, she seemed physically unable to sleep very deeply, or for long stretches. Which is why she was surprised to find the first wintery light of dawn peeking through the window when she awoke the next morning. As well as this, she felt more refreshed and comfortable than she could remember feeling ever. _Jesus, what time is it? Nearly 9?_

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the low, pale light, she realised she was not alone in her room as she had assumed when she started to wake up: she was in the duvet nest, with Jacques, Gavroche and… Enjolras. With a jolt of sudden awkwardness, she realised her feet and his were tangled together beneath the blankets, and that they were so close she could count his thick, dark blonde lashes and feel his breath mingling with hers.

Panic spread through her. _WHAT IS HAPPENING!? WHAT DO I DO!? SHIT! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN, WHAT HAPPENED?! He's going to be so fucking awkward all day if he wakes up like this, what do I do?! _The thought of putting up with an embarrassed Enjolras on Christmas Day, particularly when he'd travelled all that way (for reasons she was still unclear on) and she'd worked so hard for it to be perfect, was too horrendous to comprehend. To avoid this, she composed herself as best she could as quickly as she could, and slowly, carefully pulled first her left, then her right foot out of the tangle of limbs, and inched backwards to put slightly more space between their faces.

_Sorted. Thank God. _Able to relax again, she tried to doze back off for another snooze before Gav and Jaq woke up.

In the comfortable place between sleeping and waking, Éponine didn't notice her subconscious shuffle back towards the warm part of the bed, and the handsome blonde leader. She just dozed a little more deeply than before.

* * *

Enjolras was used to waking early; he routinely got up at around half past 5 in the morning, so to wake on Christmas morning to the pale light of a snowy morning streaming through the window was highly unusual. He was also not used to the warm happiness he felt in his very bones as he slowly awakened, or waking up slowly without immediately thinking of work he had to do, or feeling as though he had had the best sleep of his life. _I've certainly had one of the longest; it must be after 9 o' clock._

As he opened his eyes, he was startled to find the freckled face of Éponine just inches from his own: they were so close he could feel her breath tickling his chin. Once he recovered from the initial shock, an involuntary smile played at the corners of his lips: the usually animated girl looked incredibly peaceful, with closed eyes, even breathing and a small smile bringing out the ghosts of dimples on her smooth, tanned cheeks. He wasn't even aware he was watching her until she moved: her slightly bent button nose wrinkled and she snuggled towards him with a sleepy sigh as he frantically tried to think of a logical explanation for watching your friend sleep. Relief flooded through him as the tiny girl beside him was still again.

_Now what? I can't move, I'll wake her up. Do I just stay here until she wakes up? That could be hours! And what about Gavroche? Will he wake up in a minute to find me and his sister… __**cuddling**__ next to him?_

_Oh God, we're cuddling._

_What does this mean!? It's not like it was deliberate, we were both asleep! Do we address it when she wakes up? Do I pretend it didn't happen? Do I wake her up? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN!?_

_There's only one thing for it, I have to move slowly and carefully away so I can forget this ever happened. Without waking her. How do I do that? Kind of… shuffle?_

Slowly, one body part at a time, Enjolras moved backwards a few inches. He wouldn't want to freak her out if she woke up, would he?

* * *

Gavroche was the polar opposite of his sister in that long, deep sleeps came very naturally to him. He was also not familiar with the concept of waking up early for Christmas Day, unlike most 10 year olds, so the excitement didn't hit him until Jacques shook his shoulder at 9.30 in the morning, with an excited whisper of 'IT'S CHRISTMAS!'

Gavroche grinned toothily and jumped up to wake Éponine, shouting 'PRESENTS! CHRISTMAS! WAKE UP, ÉP!' with Jacques.  
His sister groaned and rubbed her eyes, mumbling 'OK, OK, I get it Gav… OW, stop jumping on me!' She then jumped up herself and gathered both him and Jacques into a tight hug, planting kiss after kiss in their hair as they protested loudly.  
'ÉP, STOP!'  
'GROOOOSSSSS'  
'GERROFF!'  
She laughed as they wriggled and shouted, teasing 'that'll teach you to jump on me in the morning!'  
'BUT PRESENTS!' Jacques yelled.  
'Ahh you're awake!' Enjolras observed cheerfully as he appeared from the bathroom, his curls damp and a little wild around his smiling face.  
'PRESENTS!

* * *

It was the best day of Éponine's life. She'd never forget the magic and unbridled joy on the boys' faces as they ripped the wrapping paper off box after box of toys and food from her, Cosette, Les Amis, Sylvie, Musichetta… even Grace had sent a box of mince pies (although strictly speaking they were addressed to her, Enjolras and Ferre, she just wanted the boys to keep opening boxes). She had also been an unbelievably lucky girl: Bahorel, Joly and Bossuet got her a CD player and several albums so she could play music in her room, which she'd never been able to do before; Feuilly and Sylvie gave her a beautiful hand-made necklace with antique-style music note and Eiffel Tower charms; she received a pot of sweet-smelling Poinsettias and a book of poetry from Jehan; cake from Musichetta; tickets to see Sister Act with Courf and R; a fabulously warm, green duffle coat from Ferre; flowers, chocolate and DVDs from Marius and Cosette, and a photo frame with pictures of her, Gavroche, Jacques and Les Amis in it from the boys (she suspected Cosette had helped them). Her favourite gift of all came from Enjolras: a silver bracelet engraved with 'have faith in your dreams and someday, your rainbow will come smiling through' – her favourite quote from Cinderella. She'd almost cried when he gave her it, and threw her arms around his neck in thanks.

He seemed pretty pleased with his gift too: she'd gotten him a bright red vintage bomber jacket, for which she received a wide smile, several thank yous and a hug.

Christmas lunch was also a success – between her and Enjolras, most of the food ended up cooked fairly well and went out on the table at around about the same time. As they wolfed down the enormous meal, they pulled crackers and laughed at the terrible jokes, put on party hats – even Enjolras! – and listened to Christmas songs on Éponine's new CD player, laughing and talking and singing all day.

After dinner, they all squashed together on the sofa under duvets to watch 'Brave' – the DVD was one of Jacques' presents – with popcorn, Musichetta's cake, beers for her and Enjolras and Fanta for the boys. To top off her amazing day, Grantaire made a surprise appearance later in the evening, fairly drunk and carrying tubs of ice cream, so the five of them all sat and talked, playing with new toys, drinking and laughing until well into the night. The night only ended when Enjolras noticed Gavroche yawning widely and Jacques almost nodding off where he sat on the sofa, and pointed it out to Éponine, who put their duvets back on their beds and made them go to sleep. She then returned to the living room to continue the evening with R and Enjolras, until eventually they all fell asleep, fully clothed and still wearing party hats, in what remained of the duvet nest.

All in all, Éponine mused to herself sleepily as her eyes closed and she snuggled into her pillow, it had been the best day ever. As she slowly drifted off, she sang along in her head to one of the songs Les Amis had all sung with her the other night in the Café Musain

_The boys of Café Musain choir were singing 'Galway Bay__'__  
and the bells were ringing out__  
For Christmas Day._

* * *

**I know it's a little filler-y, but I hope it's not too boring, and I promise it's relevant**

**Please review and let me know what you think, it really makes my day! Special mention to MaryEvH for all FIVE reviews, so so sweet of you, thank you! Glad you enjoyed! :D**

**I'll be back asap, promise guys :)**


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis. I wish.**

* * *

One of the first things you learn growing up on the streets, whether you're in San Michel or Timbuktu is that you need to watch your back. All the time. But on perfect days (like Éponine's Christmas Day) you tend to forget lessons like this one, and consequently you can never know who's watching you.

Because someone is always watching.

Éponine's shadow sat on the first floor of the fire escape on the building opposite, just close enough to the wall that you'd have to be looking for them for you to notice they were there. Curled up in a vain attempt to stop the bitter, snow-laced wind from shaking their impossibly frail frame to breaking point, they watched the whole day through the window. They saw Éponine open the curtains to let in the morning light at half past nine. They saw her grinning and laughing as two small boys ripped their way through piles of presents as big as them. They saw her beside herself with gratitude at her own pile of presents, clearly picked with love for her by friends. They saw her throw her arms around the tall, handsome man beside her after opening a small jewellery box. They saw the glances that Éponine and said handsome man kept sneaking at each other; the way she looked at him; the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't looking. They saw the four of them tuck into the biggest meal the shadow had ever seen for dinner. They saw them pile cosily onto a couch together, before being joined by another man (who was obviously pissed as a fart) carrying tubs of some sort of snack. They saw Éponine and the tall, handsome one put the kids to sleep, and then fall asleep together with the drunken guy in the living room, smiles on their faces.

They watched, and they tried to understand.

The shadow knew what had happened not so long ago, on the Rue Plumet. They'd half expected to hear of her body getting picked up off some dump somewhere, or fished out of the Seine after that. _Shows where running away gets you. Dead.  
_But Éponine wasn't dead: she looked better than ever! How had she done it? She had gone from the worst place in Paris to a cosy apartment with dinner in the oven, at least one handsome guy in the living room who clearly cared deeply about her, and a happy family all around her.

_Maybe the reason the shadow I'm on a godforsaken fire escape in the snow while Éponine enjoys her perfect Christmas is because I didn't leave when I had the chance._

Because even Azelma would admit that life had gotten significantly worse for her since her sister left. First there was picking up the slack in the workload in the bar. Then taking the beatings when Thénardier realised Ép wasn't coming back – the worst she'd ever had, by a long way. Then there was the back room: Éponine had been right about that, too. She got almost as many guys each night as Éponine, but they paid less and never told her she was beautiful. They told her she wasn't as pretty or as good as her sister.

Didn't stop them visiting, of course.

There was only one who was nice to her, who took care of her. Montparnasse had visited the inn the day after a bad beating, and apparently decided to take her under his wing: he snuck her food, he got her painkillers for her injuries, and he tried to distract Thénardier so her workload was less or so she could take a break. She honestly thought she might have died without him. He went regularly, all through the summer – actually, other than a three-week gap leading up to Christmas, when she'd missed him terribly and didn't know where he was, she'd seen him every few days since July, when Éponine had run away.

Of course, he didn't do this for free. She had to show her… gratitude now and then. But it was a small, not unexpected price to pay for his help. That was how the world worked, after all: you don't get anything for nothing, and NOBODY wants to help you for nothing. Now she thought about it, Éponine was probably shagging those blokes in return for staying in their flat.

Why was she watching, you ask? Why not contact her sister? Knock on the door, call, text? Well as it turned out, Azelma was in a hell of a state – more trouble than she'd ever been before, and it was all her fault. There was nothing she could do about it, and when her Pa found out, she was going to be in seriously deep shit. So she was watching to see if Éponine was in trouble too – if she was, maybe they could help each other. That was what people did.

But Éponine wasn't in trouble. She was in her element. If Azelma didn't know Éponine and Gavroche were brother and sister, she'd have thought she was looking at a happy young family on Christmas Day: Mother and Father very much in love, two bouncing sons (one with his dad's golden curls, one dark like his mother), Uncle Drunkard visiting for special occasions. What possible reason would Éponine have for helping Azelma now? She wasn't a Thénardier anymore. Those days were far, far behind her, that much was clear. Azelma was on her own.

As the lights in the apartment went off, Azelma stood up. Her weak, frail body shook with shivers so strong she could hardly stand, and the cold wind took what little breath she had away from her. Pulling her hoody as close to her body as possible, arms wrapped around her stomach, she braced herself for the long walk back to the inn.

Maybe her Christmas present would be a night off.

Then again, maybe not.

* * *

**Sorry it's so short! I'll be back as soon as I can, promise!**

**I'll also reply to all your reviews really soon, so so sorry for being so rude and useless!**

**Hope you're all well! If you can find it in your hearts to leave a review, they make my day :) Thanks, lovelies, love you all! :)**


	40. Chapter 40

**40 chapters?! This is MENTAL. I only planned for 40 all together when I started :L  
Thank you all so, so much for sticking with this story all the way through, it means so much to me. I genuinely never expected anyone to read this and the response has been overwhelming, I can't thank you enough!**

**This one's quite short, but if you read the A/N at the bottom, you'll see why.**

**Disclaimer: I used to own Les Miserables, but then some guy called Victor nicked it and said he wrote it. 133 years before I was born. Dick. I also don't own Peter Pan...anymore.**

* * *

Winter was cold in Paris that year. The week between Christmas and New Year, snow fell on snow and turned to ice on the cobbled streets of San Michel, making the roads too treacherous for cars and marooning Les Amis in their homes. Éponine found herself in the odd position of being the only one of her friends able to move around (she had gotten used to wandering the streets in all weathers a long time ago). Gavroche and Jacques stayed full-time with Courfeyrac at his insistence, and Éponine took in as many street children as she could, letting them sleep on the sofa, in Gavroche's bed, on the floor: anywhere in the apartment she could house a child, she did. She was nervous about bringing the first little girl, Océane, back with her the night of Boxing Day – would Enjolras and Combferre mind her bringing the adorable but admittedly filthy children into their home? – but her heart swelled with pride and love when they jumped into action as she opened the door to the apartment, fetching blankets, food and running a bath for the tiny girl without asking any questions, save for 'are there any other kids out there?'. If she had ever needed confirmation that her friends were the best guys in the world, that was it for Éponine. Each night more kids came, until the night of the 29th of December, the coldest of all, and there were twenty-four kids sleeping in their home under whatever towels or bedding they could find. Of course, they couldn't give them all a proper bed, but every last one got a bath and a bowl of soup before they went off to sleep with full bellies to keep them warm and cosy (a rare thing for most of the urchins that turned up).

Despite the weather, Courfeyrac invited them all to his apartment for his annual New Year's party, so for one evening the make-shift orphanage was left under the command of Gavroche and Jacques (they were under strict instructions not to cause any trouble from Enjolras and Éponine, and not even Gavroche would face their wrath if they returned the next day, to a trashed apartment. Gav still winced when he thought about the last time he picked a fight with his sister when she was hung over) while the adults all went out. It was a predictably great night, with drinking, dancing (even Enjolras) and fireworks – or so Éponine was told. Her memory of the party only went up to around 11.30, when Grantaire and Bahorel challenged her to a shot competition (she won). She vaguely remembered being on a table at one point, singing at the top her lungs. God, she hoped she was clothed.

* * *

The New Year brought a lot of change. First of all, the snow left, leaving Paris shivering under a dry, icy wind that chilled even the toughest to the bone and cut even the most weathered of cheeks until they were shining red as cherries. To the confusion and frustration of Enjolras, the homeless kids slowly left the apartment to return to the freezing streets. 'We don't wanna bova ya. Ya've dun enuff for us' was the reason given, but Éponine knew they really felt claustrophobic cooped up inside, and missed the freedom of the outdoors. She got that way herself sometimes. Enjolras couldn't understand why she let them go with only a minor fight, even after she tried to explain, but she could only hope they'd be safe out there.

New Year also brought a new government – or rather, a stronger version of the last government, with less opposition and more powers. As far as the outside world was aware, it was a fair and democratic general election, but the people of France, especially those in Paris, knew differently. They knew it was amazing what having rich, powerful supporters could do for a man like President Bêcheur: he didn't need anyone to vote for him at all, he'd still have gotten in. Rich-favouring, anti-poor policies were being announced every day; it was only a matter of time before the formality of Parliamentary review was over and the President passed them into law. As it was, the only reason Parliamentary review was even taking place was because Minister Lamarque, the Minister of Social Affairs insisted on it. He stood as a lone voice for the poor in the legislative system in France, but his power was limited without support in Parliament. Les Amis stepped up their protests – Enjolras rarely left the café before 3am for planning - but their efforts seemed futile. The government was too powerful – increased military presence on the streets, under the harsh new Chief of Police, Inspector Javert, was enough to frighten the most of the poor into staying quiet. Éponine was starting to agree with R when he said they'd just get themselves killed or locked up and not do any good for anyone, but, like R, she continued to attend every meeting and protest. After all, what good would it do to give up?

There was some good change: Éponine also celebrated her twentieth birthday on the 16th of January: she insisted none of them spent any money on her, but that didn't stop her friends – she received a hand- knitted scarf from Marius and Cosette, a beautiful ornate fan from Feuilly and Sylvie, breakfast in bed from Combeferre, a fabulous silver dress from Bahorel ('I didn't spend any money, promise – some bird left it at mine. It might be a bit big, but Cosette said she'll alter it if you want.'), a phenomenal painting of the Jardin du Luxembourg from Grantaire, enough cake to feed an army from Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet, another book of poetry from Jehan. Courfeyrac informed her that Gavroche and Jacques had attempted to get him to marry Éponine as a joint present from all three of them, but said he felt a sincere offer of intercourse whenever she wanted it was more appropriate. Marriage was apparently too big to be anything but a twenty-first birthday present.

After an afternoon of cake and spending time all together, they decided to go out, get really dressed up and party. Éponine wore her new dress (which was a little big around the hips, but she quickly pinned the sides so that it fit perfectly) and was met with a very flattering (and more than a little embarrassing) crowd of dropped jaws and effusive compliments from her very well-dressed friends – even Enjolras cleared his throat and stared a little, though he said nothing, as excepted. After the best night of her life celebrating with all her friends, she returned to her room to find a small rectangular parcel, neatly wrapped in red paper, lying on her pillow. A note on the top read

_I knew what I wanted to get you for your birthday a long time ago, but the no money rule made it pretty difficult to do. I found a way, though._

_I hope you have the perfect birthday you deserve._

Underneath, at a slightly different angle to the rest of the neat cursive, as though it had been added later, was a post-script.

_P.S. you looked beautiful tonight, Wendy._

_Wendy? _Éponine thought with confusion. She opened the gift to find a Moleskine notebook, filled cover-to-cover with the same neat handwriting, dotted with the odd sketch. _This must have taken someone forever!_ The first page said 'Peter Pan, by J M Barrie. Presented to Éponine Thénardier on the occasion of her 20th birthday. Copied out in full to avoid present-related cheating.' Neither the note nor the book was signed, but she knew who it was from. A smile played at her lips, and she had to fight the urge to run next door and thank him. A sudden image of throwing her arms around him and kissing him soundly on the mouth flashed across her mind. _What?! Nonono. No. Bad idea._

_God, I must be drunker than I thought._

She carefully hung her dress on a hanger, then climbed into bed with her notebook and began to read.

* * *

**So, a short one!**

**BUT**

**I think I'm going to write one-shots for New Years' Eve, and the birthday party, which will be longer. I wanted to do a kind of update chapter, like I did earlier - chapter 10 was one I think? - so that I could move time forward a wee bit. This does advance the plot, promise! (...there is a plot, promise. I'm just slow.)**

**They should be up in the next few days; if you want to read them that would be incredible, if not, I understand! :)**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Just passed 200 reviews, which is INSANE, thank you so much! I have no words!**

***UPDATE* I have uploaded a one-shot for the 29th of December bit - feel free to have a read! It's called A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes :)**


	41. Chapter 41

**I'm back, finally! Sorry it was so long, I had an essay due - don't know if you've ever tried writing about neo-orientalism, postcolonialism and neoliberalist policy but if you have, you'll know it takes up a fair chunk of your time!**

**I did write a couple of one-shots based on the last couple of chapters though! One for the cold night, the 29th December, and another for New Years Eve - they're on my profile if you want to take a look, I know many of you have already, which is awesome of you! Thank you! :D**

**Anyway, on with the main body of it.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Les Mis I wouldn't have had to write that fucking essay.**

* * *

The day after Éponine's birthday was a day of unwelcome change.

Enjolras' morning wasn't really any different to normal. True, he woke up later than usual, but still before it was completely light outside, and well before either of his roommates. He went into the kitchen for his coffee, as always, and then returned to his room and opened his laptop, just like he always did. His homepage was the website of Le Figaro (the most popular daily newspaper in France, which had in recent years become a form of unofficial government propaganda, much to Enjolras' fury and disgust) and the headline at the top of the page read:

**BRITISH PRIME MINISTER LABELS REVOLUTIONARY CHRISTMAS REFORMS 'BACKWARDS AND ELITIST'  
**_Le Figaro asks: will the British's ill-informed meddling ever stop?_

At first he was simply bored – the newspaper was always blaming SOMEONE for meddling – but as the coffee cleared his mind and it started to whir with its usual sharpness he thought to himself: _what Christmas reforms?_

Ten minutes of intense googling later, he grabbed his laptop and car keys and stormed furiously out of the apartment. This time they had gone too far. Les Amis would have to step it up a gear.

* * *

Éponine awoke very late, far later than usual, which she attributed to two things: 1. the fact that she sat up reading her handwritten Peter Pan until the very early hours, and 2. The splitting headache that told her she'd had a good night the night before (not that she needed the reminder, the memories were enough). She dressed and wandered into the kitchen, excited to thank Enjolras for his gift, but found it deserted. _There's no way I'm first up _she thought to herself, and moved to softly knock on his door.  
There was no reply.  
'Enjolras?'  
_That's weird. Oh well, I'll thank him later._

She made herself some toast with peanut butter and grabbed a cup of coffee, then decided to go for a walk and get some fresh air. Wrapping up warm in her duffle coat, she wandered out into the bustling Paris streets. It had been a long time since she'd wandered around without a purpose - since before she moved in with Enjolras and 'Ferre. _I used to do it all the time; I forgot how nice it was! _

After meandering through the Jardin du Luxembourg, she found herself in front of the imposingly beautiful building that housed Paris-Sorbonne University. At this time of day it was usually fairly busy, as students came and went, but today a large crowd was milling around the gate, anger and distress evident on their faces. Several girls were crying. _That's strange… I wonder what this is about. _After watching for a while, she learned nothing more: there were a few shouts of 'you can't do this!' but otherwise the students – she assumed they were students, they looked the right age – were just talking amongst themselves. Curiosity got the better of her, and she walked up to a young man, whose stance and confident air reminded her of Gavroche. 'Excuse me?' she asked. 'What's happening?'  
'We've all been told we're no longer welcome at the University!' the young man replied angrily.  
Éponine was still confused. 'Why?'  
'We were on government scholarships – some of us full ones, others half-fees, but they've withdrawn all funding for people in "less desirable" areas of Paris unless we can pay all our fees now. Obviously we can't, nobody has ten grand lying around, so we're all out.'  
'Less desirable areas? What does that mean?'  
'San Michel… Arrondissements 10, 11 and 12…'  
'So if you live there… That's ridiculous!'  
'Tell me about it!'  
'And they've just chucked you out?'  
'YEP.'  
'How can they do this?!'  
'It's the law now, apparently. Christmas reforms that I don't remember hearing about. Well, I'll have plenty of time to read up on them now!' he spat out bitterly.  
_Reforms? I'd have thought Enjolras would've mentioned this, done something about it… this is ridiculous! You can't stop people's education because they're not super-rich!  
_'Hasn't anybody done anything about this?' she could feel her anger growing.  
'Who's going to? Can't argue with the government, can you?'  
_Yes you can.  
_'Tell you what.' She said, carefully considering her choice of words. _How do I tell them about Les Amis without telling them too much….? We can't meet new people in the café until we know they can be trusted… _'There are people who'll fight this, with all they've got. Spread the word. Tell everyone there's a meeting tonight, 7.30. Next to the old elephant statue on the wasteland. If they want this stopped, want to go back to uni, want things different: go there. Tell EVERYONE.'  
The man looked bemused, but intrigued. 'I will. Who shall I say they're meeting?'  
She paused for a second, and then smiled slightly. 'Les Amis.'  
'What?'  
But he got no reply. Éponine was gone.

* * *

Azelma had never felt pain like it. Her face, her stomach, her back… they were on fire. Why was it men wanted to treat her this way? What pleasure did they get from this?!

Truth be told, she was lucky it was only the one guy today, even if that was only because her Pa had been so gleeful after that phone call. Who WAS that? They'd mentioned Gavroche, her Pa never normally acknowledged his existence. What was going on?

It was then that she felt it.

And she knew she couldn't hide any longer. It had been hard enough already.

So she picked up her phone and dialled.

* * *

Gavroche rocked up late at school, as usual. He'd have been there earlier, but he walked slower so he could think up something really good to put on his late form. He liked being creative with them, no point in 'I slept in' or 'the bus was late'; they knew it wasn't true anyway. Something like, 'my sister's limbs caught fire and I had to put them out using only a tube of toothpaste and a sausage roll so I was busy.' That was better.

He strolled up to the office, excuse prepared, cheeky grin in place for the receptionist who hated him for how little he was at school, and how easily he could wind her up. She'd had a few spectacular run-ins with Éponine, who couldn't believe anyone could get so angry with a ten year old. To his great surprise, today he found her grinning back at him… in a bit of an evil way.

'Alright, Miss 'eron? Am not late, am a?'  
'Oh I'm so happy you're here, Gavroche Jondrette. Or is it Thénardier?'  
_What?! _He started to panic. _How does she know?!  
_'I had the pleasure of talking to your father this morning. Charming man.'  
'I don' have a Pa.'  
'Well, funnily enough, Monsieur Thénardier also denied any knowledge of you… that is until I said you were no longer welcome at this school - or any school for that matter. Funny, that seemed to perk him up.'  
'What did I do!? Whatever it is, it wasn't me!'  
'If something HAS happened, I suspect it was you, but this isn't actually as a result of your actions. Not even your laziness, disregard for uniform and conduct rules, or constant lateness. This is because unless you have five thousand euros hidden somewhere – which even knowing your thieving is unlikely – you are out. And not a moment too soon.'  
'FIVE THOUSAND EUROS?!' Gavroche exclaimed in shock. 'No, I don't have that.'  
'Well, no more school for you!' she replied, her voice a strange mix of cheer and malice.  
With mock shock and sadness, he moaned 'Noooo!' as internally he thought, _this is brilliant, I never 'ave to come back ever again! I can just stay at Ép's or Courf's and do fun stuff with the lads! _'Oh, well. I'm ova it. Don't miss me too much, Miss.' and with that, he turned towards the door. _  
_'Oh, you're going nowhere.'  
'What?'  
She was grinning again, from ear to ear. 'I couldn't possibly let a 10 year old boy out onto the streets alone! No, we'll have to wait for someone to pick you up.'  
'Oh. If you call Éponine, she'll – '  
'that won't be necessary.'  
'But… who else is going to pick me up?'  
'I'm so glad you asked.' She simpered.

The door to the office opened, and in stepped a tall brute of a man, with a large nose, a smirking, conniving grin he knew only too well, and a twinkle in his eye that filled even Gavroche with fear. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a little kid. He looked desperately around the room for an escape route, but found nothing. He wanted to run, run away to his friends, his bed, his elephant and never look back.

But the only way out was past the sneering, terrifying man in front of him. _I want Éponine!_

''Ello there, my favourite son. I've come'ta take ya home.'

* * *

**All a bit dramatic and cryptic, sorry... I'll be back ASAP!  
**

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